./,r..    A..     » 


UJIMIII  it  iiiiiimiiimiiiiiiiii  HIM  in  niiiii  iimiimc    .=. 

^£\  I  AVirginiaCousini 
SfBarHarbor 

—      =.    -                     »T*     1 

mi  |        Talcs          m_ 

1  Mrs  Burton  Harrison  I 

,•» 

\  r.  -ss. 

"v^    1  ^^A/fT^ 

ra 

{^-  M  *^  ')     I    5 

\- 

—      \T^? 

^"•^  §             ^SwS^C^>              =      =F 

~  -~  ^s  "^ 

-  —  -'  S 

1             fe 

=                    yvi 

| 

M  D  C 
1  Lamson  \ 

—   -    Boston  at 

M^u2 

'OtCSC 

1 

:cc 

Vbl 
idr 

nun 

I 
1 

;   xcv 
ffeand  CQf 
sJewYorK 

i         — 

^= 

r-^jl 

rf 

~i    rniiiiiiiiuiniiiiniii 

E  _^^b.      L  _S/= 

•sr  "  i^^™1    ^-"»      «j 

sf 

ztsll  >^^1  .:^':=  ,^ii  ,"^f=  Js=.l 

=      ="£  =       =!= 

•^ 

•=:-—        ="s£ 

=  f  =        =     = 

r        —  —  -r-s.     —  •  - 

R    i; 

I?        f 

-  -  --  -  --  -  --  -  .-  -  j*^j«*i 

Copyright,  1895, 
By  Lamson,  Wolffe,  &  Co 


All  rights  reserved 


Note  by  the  Author 

THE  little  story  "A  Virginia  Cousin,"  here 
put  into  print  for  the  first  time,  is  in  some 
sort  a  tribute  offered  by  a  long-exiled  child  of  the 
South  to  her  native  soil.  It  is  also  a  transcript 
of  certain  phases  of  that  life  in  the  metropolis 
which  has  been  pooh-poohed  by  some  critics  as 
trivially  undeserving  of  a  chronicler,  but  fortunate 
hitherto  in  finding  a  few  readers  willing  to  con- 
cede as  much  humanity  to  the  "heroine  in  satin" 
as  to  the  "confidante  in  linen." 

Of  the  other  contents  of  this  volume,  "Out  of 
Season"  made  its  first  appearance  some  time  ago 
in  Tiuo  Tales,  and  "On  Frenchman's  Bay"  was 
published  in  The  Cosmopolitan  Magazine. 

C.  C.  H. 
NEW  YORK, 

November,  1895 


2046371 


A  Virginia  Cousin 


Chapter   I 

MR.   THEODORE   VANCE   TOWNSEND    A  Vir- 
awoke  to  the  light  of  a  spring  morn-   ginia 
ing  in  New  York,   feeling  at  odds  with    Cousin 
the  world.     The  cause  for  this  state  of 
variance  with  existing  circumstances  was 
not   at  sight  apparent.      He  was    young, 
good-looking,   well-born,    well-mannered, 
and,  to  support  these  claims  to   favorable 
consideration,  had  come  into  the  fortunes 
of  a    father   and   two   maiden  aunts, —  a 
piece    of    luck     that    had,    however,   not 
secured  for  him  the  unqualified  approba- 
tion of  his  fellow-citizens. 

Joined  to  the  fact  that,  upon  first  leav- 
ing college,  some  years  before,  he  had  led 
a  few  cotillons  at  New  York  balls,  his 
wealth  and  leisure  had  brought  upon 
Townsend  the  reproach  of  the  metropoli- 
tan press  to  the  extent  that  nothing  short 
of  his  committing  suicide  would  have  in- 
duced it  to  look  upon  anything  he  did  as 
in  earnest. 


A  Vlr-  With  an  inherited  love  of  letters,  he  had 
ginia  dabbled  in  literature  so  far  as  to  write  and 
Cousin  publish  a  book  of  verse,  of  fair  merit, 
which,  however,  had  been  received  with 
tumultuous  rhapsodies  of  satire  by  the  pro- 
fessional critics.  The  style  and  title  of 
"Laureate  of  the  400,"  applied  in  this 
connection,  had  indeed  clung  to  him  and 
made  life  hateful  in  his  sight.  To  escape 
it  and  the  other  rubs  of  unoccupied  sol- 
vency, he  had  made  many  journeys  into 
foreign  countries,  had  gone  around  the 
globe,  and,  in  due  course,  had  always  come 
to  the  surface  in  New  York  again,  with  a 
sort  of  doglike  attachment  to  the  place  of 
his  birth  that  would  not  wear  away. 

Of  the  society  he  was  familiar  with, 
Vance  was  profoundly  weary.  Of  domes- 
tic ties,  he  had  only  a  sister,  married  to  a 
rich  banker,  and  in  possession  of  a  fine 
new  house,  whose  tapestries  and  electric 
lighting  occupied  all  her  thoughts  and  con- 
versation that  could  be  spared  for  things 
indoors.  Away  from  home,  Mrs.  Clif- 
ton was  continually  on  the  wing,  attend- 
ing to  the  demands  of  philanthropy  or 
charity,  and  to  cultivation  of  the  brain  in 


classes  of  women  of  incomes  equal  to  her    A  Vir- 
own.     Whenever  her  brother  dined  with   ginia 
her,  she  entertained   him  with  a  voluble    Cousin 
flow  of  conversation  about  these  women 
and  their  affairs,  never  failing,  however,  to 
exhibit  her  true  sisterly  feeling  by  telling 
Vance  that  she  could  not  see  why  in  the 
world  he  did  not  marry  Kitty  Ainger  and 
settle  down. 

By  dint  of  much  iteration,  this  sugges- 
tion of  Kitty  Ainger  as  a  wife  had  come 
to  take  languid  possession  of  the  young 
man's  brain.  Besides,  he  liked  Miss  Ain- 
ger as  well  as  admired  her,  and  was  per- 
haps more  content  in  her  company  than 
in  that  of  anybody  else  he  knew. 

On  the  spring  morning  in  question,  he 
had  awaked  in  a  flood  of  sunshine  and 
fresh  air  that  poured  through  the  open 
windows  of  his  room.  His  cold  bath,  his 
simple  breakfast,  his  ride  in  the  Park, 
brought  his  sensations  of  physical  well- 
being  to  a  point  that  almost  excited  his 
spirits  to  strike  a  balance  of  youthful  cheer- 
fulness. He  forgot  his  oppressive  belong- 
ings, the  obloquy  they  had  conferred  upon 
him  in  the  minds  of  men  who  make  pub- 


A  Vir-  lie  opinion  about  others  as  citizens,  his 
ginia  unreasonable  stagnation  of  ambition. 
Cousin  As  he  cantered  along  the  equestrian 
byways  of  the  Park,  and  felt,  without 
noting,  the  stir  of  new  life  in  nature,  he 
grew  light  of  heart  and  buoyant.  And  as 
this  condition  increased,  his  thoughts  crys- 
tallized around  the  image  of  {Catherine 
Ainger.  She,  too,  loved  her  morning  ride ; 
no  doubt  he  should  meet  her  presently. 
He  had  not  seen  her  since  Thursday  of 
last  week,  when  he  had  taken  her  in  to 
dinner  at  Mrs.  Cartwright's ;  and  he  had 
a  vague  idea  she  had  resented  him  a  little 
on  that  occasion.  Her  talk  had  been  a 
trifle  baffling,  her  eyes  evasive.  But  she 
had  worn  a  stunning  gown,  and  was  by  all 
odds  the  best-looking  woman  of  the  lot. 
How  well  she  sat  at  table,  by  the  way  ! 
What  an  admirable  figure  for  a  man  who 
would  be  forced  to  entertain,  to  place  at 
the  head  of  his  board  in  perpetuity  ! 

Their  families,  too,  had  always  known 
each  other.  And  she  was  so  uncommonly 
level-headed  and  sensible  !  Agreeable,  too ; 
no  whims,  no  fancies.  He  had  never 
heard  of  her  being  ill  for  a  day.  As  to 


temper  and  disposition,  they  matched  all    A  Vir- 
the  rest.     She  had  never  flirted  ;  and,  mar-  ginia 
rying  at  twenty-six  a  husband  of  twenty-    Cousin 
nine,    she    would    give    him   no    possible 
anxiety  on  that  score. 

Yes,  his  sister  was  right ;  everybody 
was  right.  Miss  Ainger  was  the  mate 
designed  for  him  by  heaven ;  and  he  had 
been  a  fool  to  dawdle  so  long  in  making 
up  his  mind  to  accept  the  fact. 

As  the  sunshine  warmed  him,  and  his 
horse  forged  along  with  a  beautiful  even 
stride  beneath  him,  Vance  worked  up  to 
a  degree  of  enthusiasm  he  had  not  felt 
since  he  played  on  a  winning  football 
eleven  in  a  college  game.  That  very  day 
he  would  seek  her  and  ask  her  to  be  his 
wife.  They  would  be  married  as  soon  as 
she  was  willing,  and  would  go  away  in 
the  yacht  somewhere  and  learn  to  love 
each  other.  He  would  have  an  aim,  a 
home,  a  stake  in  the  community.  At 
thirty  years  of  age,  he  should  be  found  no 
longer  in  dalliance  with  time  to  make  it 
pass  away. 

Vance,  enamored  of  these  visions,  fin- 
ished the  circuit  of  the  Park  without  see- 

[7] 


A  Vlr-  ing  the  central  object  of  them,  with  whom 
ginia      he  had  resolved  to  make  an  appointment 
Cousin    to  receive   him  at  home  that  afternoon. 
He  rode  back  to  the  stable  where  he  kept 
his  horse,  left  it  there,  and,  getting  into  an 
elevated  car,  went  down-town  to  visit  his 
lawyer,  going  with  that  gentleman  after- 
wards into  the  stately  halls  of  the  Law- 
yers' Club  for  luncheon. 

At  a  table  near  him,  Vance  saw,  sitting 
alone,  a  man  named  Crawford,  whom  he 
had  met  casually  and  knew  for  a  hard- 
working and  ambitious  junior  member  of 
the  New  York  bar.  They  exchanged 
nods,  and  Vance  fancied  that  Crawford 
looked  at  him  with  a  scrutiny  more  close 
than  the  occasion  warranted. 

"  You  know  Crawford,  then  ?  "  said 
Mr.  Gleason,  an  old  friend  of  Vance's 
father.  "  He  began  work  with  our  firm, 
but  had  an  offer  for  a  partnership  in  a  year 
or  two,  and  left  us.  He's  a  tremendous 
fellow  to  grind,  but  is  beginning  to  reap 
the  benefit  of  it  in  making  a  name  for  him- 
self. If  that  fellow  had  a  little  capital, 
there  is  nothing  he  could  not  do,  in  this 
community.  He  has  never  been  abroad, 


has  had  no  pleasures  of  society,  leads  a  A  Vlr- 
scrupulously  regular  life,  drinks  no  liquors  gin: a 
or  wines  of  any  kind,  and  is  in  bed  by  Cousin 
twelve  o'clock  every  night  of  his  life. 
His  only  indulgence  is  to  buy  books,  with 
which  his  lodgings  overflow.  We  have 
always  supposed  him  to  be  a  woman- 
hater,  until  latterly,  when  straws  seem  to 
show  that  the  wind  blows  for  him  from  a 
point  of  sentiment.  He  was  in  the  Adi- 
rondacks  last  summer,  in  camp  with  a 
friend,  and  I  've  an  idea  he  met  his  fate 
then.  After  all,  Vance,  my  dear  boy, 
marriage  is  the  goal  man  runs  for,  be  he 
what  he  may.  It  will  develop  John  Craw- 
ford, just  as  it  would  develop  you,  in  the 
right  direction  ;  and  I  heartily  wish  you 
would  tell  me  when  you  intend  to  suc- 
cumb to  the  universal  fate,  and  fall  in 
love." 

"  I  heartily  wish  I  could,"  said  Vance, 
with  a  tinge  of  the  mockery  he  had  that 
morning  put  aside. 

At  that  moment,  Crawford,  who  had 
finished  his  luncheon,  passed  their  table, 
hat  in  hand,  bowing  and  smiling  as  he  did 
so.  A  waiter,  jostling  by,  made  him 

[p] 


A  Vir-  loosen  his  hold  of  the  hat,  a  rather  shabby 
ginia      light-brown     Derby,    that    rolled     under 
Cousin     Vance  Townsend's  feet.      It  was  lifted 
by  Vance  and  restored  to  its  owner  before 
the  waiter  could  reach  the  spot ;  and  again 
Vance  thought  he  detected  a  look  of  sig- 
nificance, incomprehensible  to  him,  in  the 
frank  eyes  Crawford  turned  upon  him  as 
he  expressed  his  thanks. 

"  It  would  have  been  a  benefit  to  Craw- 
ford's friends  to  have  accidentally  put  your 
foot  through  that  hat,"  said  Mr.  Gleason, 
laughing.  "  He  is  accused  by  them  of 
having  worn  it  ever  since  he  was  admitted 
to  the  bar.  But  then,  who  thinks  of 
clothes,  with  a  real  man  inside  of  them  ? 
And  no  doubt  the  girl  they  say  he  is  going 
to  marry  will  right  these  trifling  matters 
in  short  order." 

"  I  like  Crawford  ;  I  must  see  more  of 
him,"  replied  Vance.  "  He  strikes  me  as 
the  fellow  to  pass  a  pleasant  evening  with. 
I  wonder  if  he  would  come  to  dine  with 
me." 

"  If  you  bait  your  invitation  with  an 
offer  to  show  your  first  editions,  no  doubt 
of  it,"  said  Mr.  Gleason.  "  But  to  go 

[70] 


back  to  our  conversation,  Vance.      When    A  Vir- 
are  we  to  —  "  ginia 

"  I  decline  to  answer,"  interrupted  the    Cousin 
young  man,  smiling,  nevertheless,  in  such 
a  way  that  Mr.  Gleason  built  up  a  whole 
structure  of  probabilities  upon  that  single 
smile. 

Yes,  Vance  decided,  everything  con- 
spired to  urge  him  toward  his  intended 
venture  that  afternoon.  When,  about  four 
o'clock,  he  turned  his  steps  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Miss  Ainger's  home,  he  had  reached 
a  pitch  of  very  respectably  loverlike  anx- 
iety. He  even  fancied  the  day  had  been 
unusually  long.  He  caught  himself  spec- 
ulating as  to  where  she  would  be  sitting  in 
the  drawing-room,  how  she  would  look 
when  he  laid  his  future  in  her  hands. 

At  that  moment,  he  allowed  himself  to 
remember  a  series  of  occasions  during  the 
years  of  their  friendship,  upon  any  one  of 
which  he  believed  he  might  have  spoken 
as  he  now  meant  to  speak,  and  that  she 
would  have  answered  as  he  now  expected 
her  to  answer.  Ah  !  what  had  he  not 
lost  ?  In  her  gentle,  equable  companion- 
ship, he  would  have  been  a  better,  a  higher, 


A  Vir-  a  less  discontented  fellow.  All  the  vir- 
ginia  tues,  charms,  desirable  qualities,  of  this  fine 
Cousin  and  high-bred  young  woman,  who  had  been 
more  patient,  more  forgiving,  than  he  de- 
served, were  concentrated  into  one  small 
space  of  thought,  like  the  Lord's  Prayer 
engraved  upon  a  tiny  coin.  But  even  as 
his  foot  touched  the  lowest  step  of  her 
father's  portal,  he  experienced  a  shock  of 
doubt  of  himself  and  of  his  own  stability. 
He  tarried  ;  he  turned  away,  and  strolled, 
whither  he  knew  not. 

In  the  adjoining  street  lived  Mrs.  Myr- 
tle, an  aunt  of  his,  to  whom,  it  must  be 
said,  Vance  rarely  paid  the  deference  con- 
sidered by  that  excellent  lady  her  just  due. 
She  inhabited  the  brown-stone  dwelling  in 
which,  as  a  bride,  she  had  gone  to  house- 
keeping when  New  York  society  was  still 
within  limits  of  visitors  on  foot.  Not  that 
that  made  any  difference  to  Mrs.  Myrtle, 
who  had  always  kept  her  carriage,  and  had, 
about  twenty  years  back,  been  cited  as  a 
leader  of  the  metropolitan  beau  monde. 

In  those  days,  whether  on  wheels  or 
a-foot,  everybody  went  to  Mrs.  Myrtle's 
Thursdays.  Her  spacious  drawing-rooms, 


papered  in  crimson  flock  paper,  with  their  A  Vir- 
massive  doors  and  mouldings  and  mirror-  ginia 
frames  and  curtain-tops  of  ebonized  wood  Cousin 
with  gold  scroll  decorations,  their  furni- 
ture in  the  same  wood,  with  red  satin 
damask  coverings,  had,  in  their  time,  con- 
tained the  elect  of  good  society.  The 
pictures  upon  Mrs.  Myrtle's  walls,  and  the 
statuary  scattered  on  pedestals  about  the 
rooms,  were  then  quoted  by  the  newspapers, 
and  by  those  so  favored  as  to  see  them,  as 
a  rare  display  of  the  highest  art,  accumu- 
lated by  an  American  householder.  One 
of  the  earliest  affronts  of  many  uninten- 
tionally put  upon  his  aunt  by  Vance  had 
been  his  contemptuous  shrug  of  the  shoul- 
ders when  called  upon  by  her,  shortly  after 
his  return  from  his  first  winter  spent  in 
Italy,  to  view  her  "  statuary." 

Since  then,  Mrs.  Myrtle  had,  little  by 
little,  come  to  a  perception  of  the  fact  that 
her  "  art  collection  "  was  not,  any  more 
than  its  mistress,  an  object  of  the  first 
importance  to  New  York.  But  Vance 
had  been  always  associated  in  her  mind 
with  the  incipient  stages  of  enlightenment, 
and  she  loved  him  accordingly.  Her  love 


A  Vlr-  for  Vance's  sister,  Mrs.  Clifton,  who  re- 
ginia  fused  to  pay  her  tribute,  and  belonged  to 
Cousin  the  new  "  smart  set,"  was  even  less. 

Upon  Mrs.  Myrtle,  Vance  now  resolved 
to  pay  a  long-deferred  duty-call.  Admitted 
by  an  old  negro  butler,  he  was  left  alone 
in  the  large  darkling  drawing-room,  in  the 
shade  of  the  crimson  curtains,  amid  the 
ghostly  ranks  of  the  statues,  to  ruminate 
until  Mrs.  Myrtle  should  make  her  appear- 
ance. Little  thought  did  he  bestow  upon 
the  duration  of  this  ordeal.  He  was  well 
occupied,  and,  for  once  in  his  life,  heartily 
ashamed,  —  first,  of  his  indecision  upon  the 
Ainger  door-steps,  and,  secondly,  of  the 
fact  that  he  had  put  in  here  to  gain  cour- 
age to  return  there. 

Mrs.  Myrtle's  heavy  tread  upon  her 
own  parquet  floor  aroused  him  from  medi- 
tation. His  aunt  was  a  massive  lady,  who 
wore  black  velvet,  with  a  neck-ruff  of  old 
point-lace;  who,  never  pretty,  and  no 
longer  pleasant  to  look  upon,  yet  carried 
herself  with  a  certain  ease  born  of  assur- 
ance in  her  own  place  in  life,  and  culti- 
vated by  many  years  of  receiving  visitors. 
Her  small  white  hand,  twinkling  with  dia- 


monds,  was  extended  to  him  with  some-    A  Vir- 
thing  of  the  grand  air  he  remembered  his   ginia 
mother,  who  was  the  beauty  of  her  family,    Cousin 
to  have  possessed  ;  and  then  Mrs.  Myrtte, 
seating   herself,   fixed   an   unsmiling  gaze 
upon  her  nephew. 

"  I  —  ah  —  thought  I  would  look  in  and 
see  how  you  are  getting  on,"  he  said,  with 
an  attempt  at  jocularity. 

"  But  it  is  not  Thursday,"  she  an- 
swered, cold  as  before.  "  I  make  it  a 
point  to  see  no  one  except  on  Thursday, 
or  after  five.  And  it  is  not  yet  after 
five." 

Townsend,  who  could  not  dispute  this 
fact,  was  at  a  loss  how  to  go  on.  But 
Mrs.  Myrtle,  having  put  things  upon  the 
right  footing,  launched  at  once  into  an  ex- 
position of  her  grievances  against  him,  his 
sister,  and  the  ruling  society  of  latter-day 
New  York. 

"  I  am  sure  if  any  one  had  told  your 
mother  and  me,  when  we  first  came  out, 
what  people  were  to  push  us  against  the 
wall,  and  to  have  all  New  York  racing 
and  tearing  after  their  invitations,  we 
should  never  have  believed  it.  It 's  enough 


A  Vir-  to  make  your  poor  mother  come  back  from 
ginia  the  dead,  to  revise  Anita  Clifton's  visiting- 
Cousin  list.  And  I  suppose  the  next  thing  to 
hear  of  will  be  your  marriage  into  one  of 
these  bran-new  families.  I  must  say, 
Theodore,  although  it  is  seldom  my  opin- 
ion is  listened  to,  I  was  pleased  when  I 
heard,  the  other  day,  that  you  were  re- 
ported engaged  to  Katherine  Ainger.  The 
Aingers  are  of  our  own  sort ;  and  her 
fortune,  although  it  is  not  so  important  to 
you,  will  be  handsome.  She  is  one  of  the 
few  girls  who  go  much  into  the  world  who 
still  remember  to  come  to  see  me  j  and 
she  has  been  lunching  here  to-day." 

44  Really  ?  "  said  Vance,  turning  over  his 
hat  in  what  he  felt  to  be  a  most  perfunc- 
tory way. 

44  Yes  ;  if  you  or  Anita  Clifton  had  been 
here  in  the  last  two  months,  you  might 
have  found  out  that  I  have  had  a  young 
lady —  a  Southern  cousin  —  stopping  in  the 
house." 

14  A  cousin  of  mine  ? "  queried  the 
young  man,  indifferently. 

44  My  first  cousin's  daughter,  Evelyn 
Carlylc.  You  know  there  was  a  break 


between  the  families  about  the  beginning    A  Vir- 
of  the  war,  and,  for  one  reason  or  another,  ginia 
we  have  hardly  met  since.     When  I  went    Cousin 
to  the  Hot  Springs  for  my  rheumatism  last 
year, —  you  and  Anita  Clifton  doubtless 
are  not  aware  that  I  have  been  a  great 
sufferer  from  rheumatism, —  I  stopped  a 
night  or  two  at  Colonel  Carlyle's  house 
in  Virginia,  and  took  rather  a  fancy  to  this 
girl.     I  found  out  that  she  has  a  voice,  and 
desired  to  cultivate  it  in  New  York,  and 
so  invited  her  to  come  on  after  Christmas 
and  stay  in  my  house." 

Vance  was  conscious  of  a  slight  feeling 
of  somnolence.  Really,  he  could  not  be 
expected  to  care  for  the  Virginian  cousin's 
voice.  And  Aunt  Myrtle  had  such  a 
soporific  way  of  drawling  out  her  sen- 
tences !  He  wished  she  would  return  to 
the  subject  of  her  luncheon-guest,  and 
then,  perhaps,  he  might  manage  to  keep 
awake. 

41  So  you  invited  Miss  Ainger  to-day,  to 
keep  the  young  lady  company  ?  "  he  ven- 
tured to  observe. 

"  If  you  will  give  me  time  to  explain, 
I  will  tell  you  that  Katherine  Ainger  and 

['7] 


A  Vir-  she  have  struck  up  the  greatest  friendship 
ginia  this  winter,  and  have  been  together  part 
Cousin  of  every  day.  I  wish,  Vance,  that  you 
could  bring  yourself  to  extend  some  atten- 
tion to  your  mother's  first  cousin's  child. 
From  Anita  Clifton  I  expect  nothing  — 
absolutely  nothing.  Not  belonging  to  the 
1  smart  set,'  whatever  that  may  be,  I  make 
no  demands  upon  Anita  Clifton.  But  you, 
Vance,  have  not  yet  shown  that  you  are 
absolutely  heartless.  When  Eve  goes 
home,  as  she  soon  will,  it  would  be  grati- 
fying to  have  her  able  to  say  you  had  rec- 
ognized her  existence." 

"  I  will  leave  a  card  for  the  young  lady 
in  the  hall,"  he  said,  awkwardly;  "  and 
perhaps  she  would  allow  me  to  order  some 
flowers  for  her.  Just  now,  Aunt  Myrtle, 
I  have  an  engagement,  and  I  must  really 
be  going  on." 

He  had  risen  to  his  feet,  and  Mrs.  Myr- 
tle was  about  shaping  a  last  arrow  to  aim 
at  him,  when  the  door  opened,  and  a  girl 
came  into  the  room. 

"  Oh  !  Cousin  Augusta,"  she  said,  in 
the  most  outspoken  manner,  a  slight 


Southern    accent    marking    some    of    the    A  Vir- 
syllables  enunciated  in  a  remarkably  sweet  ginia 
voice,  "  I  have  been  taking  your  Dandie    Cousin 
Dinmont  for  a  walk,  and  he  has  been  such 
a  good,  obedient  dear,  you  must  give  him 
two  lumps  of  sugar  when  he  comes  to  tea 
at  five  o'clock." 

As  Mrs.  Myrtle  performed  the  cere- 
mony of  introduction  between  them,  Vance 
became  conscious  that  he  was  in  the  pres- 
ence of  one  of  the  most  radiantly  pretty 
young  persons  who  had  ever  crossed  the 
line  of  his  languid  vision.  Equipped  in  a 
tailor-made  frock  of  gray  serge,  a  black 
hat  with  many  rampant  plumes  upon  her 
red-brown  hair,  a  boa  of  black  ostrich 
feathers  curling  around  her  pearly  throat 
and  caressing  the  rosiest  of  cheeks,  his 
Cousin  Eve  surveyed  him  with  as  much 
indifference  as  if  he  had  been  the  veriest 
casual  met  in  a  crowd  in  Fifth  Avenue. 
Two  fingers  of  a  tiny  gloved  hand  were 
bestowed  on  him  in  recognition  of  their 
relationship,  after  which  she  resumed  her 
interrupted  talk  about  the  dog. 

"  You  understand  that  Mr.  Townsend 


A  Vir-  is  a  relative,  my  dear  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Myr- 
ginia  tie,  in  her  rocking-horse  manner.  "  You 
Cousin  have  heard  me  speak  of  him  ?  " 

"  Yes  j  oh,  yes,  certainly,"  Eve  said, 
with  preoccupation.  "  But  to  us  Vir- 
ginians a  cousin  means  either  very  much 
—  or  very,  very  little." 

"  The  presumption,  then,  is  against 
me  ? "  he  asked,  determined  not  to  be 
subdued. 

"  Is  it  ?  I  had  not  thought,"  she  an- 
swered, hardly  looking  in  his  direction. 
Vance  took  the  hint  and  his  departure. 
When  again  out  of  doors,  he  straightened 
himself,  and  walked  with  a  firmer,  more 
determined  tread,  conscious  of  a  little 
tingling  in  his  veins  on  the  whole  not  dis- 
agreeable. In  this  mood,  he  reached  the 
corner  of  the  street  in  which  dwelt  Miss 
Ainger,  and  was  very  near  indeed  to  pass- 
ing it,  but,  recovering  himself  with  a  start, 
turned  westward  from  the  Avenue,  and 
again  sought  the  house  from  which  he  had 
gone  irresolute  a  little  while  before. 

The  door  was  opened  for  him  by  a  ser- 
vant, who  did  not  know  "  for  sure,"  but 
"  rather  thought  "  Miss  Ainger  was  in  the 
[20] 


drawing-room.    While  following  the  man    A  Vir- 
across  a  wide  hall,  Vance  espied,  lying  up-  ginla 
on  a  chair,  a  man's  hat  —  not  the  conven-    Cousin 
tional    high   black   hat   of   the    afternoon 
caller,  but  a  rusty  brown  "  pot  "  hat,  of 
an  unobtrusive  pattern. 

"  Humph  !  the  piano-tuner,  no  doubt," 
he  said  to  himself,  and  simultaneously  re- 
called the  fact  that  he  had  seen  the  object 
in  question,  or  its  twin  brother,  that  same 
day.  Before  the  footman  could  put  his 
hand  upon  the  knob  of  the  drawing-room 
door,  it  opened,  and  the  owner  of  the  hat 
came  out.  It  was  indeed  Crawford, 
dressed  in  morning  tweeds,  as  Vance  had 
seen  him  at  luncheon  in  the  Lawyers' 
Club,  his  plain,  strong  face  illuminated 
with  an  expression  Vance  knew  nothing 
akin  to,  and  therefore  did  not  interpret. 

But  Vance  did  know  Miss  Ainger  for 
an  independent  in  her  set,  a  girl  who  struck 
out  for  herself  to  find  clever  and  compan- 
ionable people  with  whom  to  fraternize ; 
and  he  was  accordingly  not  surprised  to 
meet  Crawford  here  as  a  visitor.  As  once 
before  that  day,  the  two  men  exchanged 
silent  nods,  and  parted.  Vance  found 


A  Vir-  Miss  Ainger  caressing  with  dainty  finger- 
ginia      tips  a  large  bunch  of  fresh  violets  that  lay 
Cousin    in  her  lap  and  filled  the  room  with  fra- 
grance. 

Kitty  Ainger,  a  daughter  of  New  York, 
calm,  reserved,  temperamentally  serious, 
fond  of  argument  upon  high  themes,  cul- 
tivated in  minor  points  to  a  fastidious  de- 
gree, handsome  in  a  sculptural  way,  had 
always  seemed  to  him  lacking  in  the  one 
grace  of  womanly  tenderness  he  vaguely 
felt  to  be  of  vast  moment  in  a  young  man's 
choice  for  a  wife. 

To-day,  as  she  greeted  him,  her  manner 
was  gentle  and  gracious  to  perfection. 
Perhaps  it  so  appeared  in  contrast  to  that 
of  the  fair  Phyllida  who  had  flouted  him 
in  his  Aunt  Myrtle's  drawing-room ;  per- 
haps Kitty  was  really  glad  of  this  first 
occasion  in  many  days  when  they  were 
alone  together,  undisturbed. 

The  thought  caused  a  wave  of  excite- 
ment to  rise  in  the  suitor's  veins.  He 
wondered  how  he  could  have  held  back, 
an  hour  before,  when  upon  the  threshold 
of  such  an  opportunity.  But  then,  had  he 
made  appearance,  no  doubt  there  would 


have  been  other  visitors, —  Crawford,  for    A  Vir- 
instance,  whom  Miss  Ainger  was  plainly   ginia 
taking  by  the  hand,  to  lead  into  society,  as    Cousin 
clever  girls  will  do  when  they  find  an  un- 
known clever  man ;    Crawford,   who  did 
not    know  enough  of  conventionality  to 
put  on  a  black  coat  when  he   called  on  a 
girl  in  the  afternoon  ;  Crawford,  poor  and 
plain,  a  man's  man,  whom  the  Ainger  fam- 
ily no  doubt  regarded  as  one  of  Kitty's 
freaks.     Yes,  Crawford  would  have  been 
a  decided  interruption  to  this  tete-a-tete. 

Now,  there  was  an  open  sea  before 
Vance,  and  he  had  only  to  launch  the 
boat,  so  long  delayed,  a  craft  he  at  last 
candidly  believed  to  be  freighted  with  the 
best  hopes  of  his  life.  They  talked  for 
awhile  upon  impersonal  subjects  —  Kitty 
exerting  herself,  he  could  see,  to  be  agree- 
able and  sympathetic  with  her  visitor.  In 
the  progress  of  this  conversation,  he  took 
note  with  satisfaction  of  the  artistic  ele- 
gance of  her  dress  (of  the  exact  color  of 
the  Peach  Blow  Vase,  he  said  to  himself, 
searching  for  a  simile  in  tint),  with  sleeves 
of  sheenful  velvet,  and  a  silken  train  that 
lay  upon  the  rug.  Her  long,  white  fin- 


A  Vir-  gers,  playing  with   the   violets,  wore   no 

ginia       rings.     Her  slim  figure,  her  braids  of  pale 

Cousin     brown  hair,  her  calm,  gray  eyes,  attracted 

him  as  never  before,  with  their  girlish  and 

yet  womanly  composure. 

"  Why  have  you  never  told  me,"  he 
said  abruptly,  "of  your  friendship  with 
that  little  witch  of  a  Virginia  cousin  of 
mine  who  has  been  staying  with  Mrs. 
Myrtle  this  winter  ?  " 

"  If  you  wish  me  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
it  was  because  she  asked  me  never  to  do 
so,"  replied  Kitty,  coloring  a  little.  "  You 
have  met  her  ?  "  she  added  eagerly. 

"  Yes,  to-day  ;  a  little  while  ago,  when 
I  called  upon  my  aunt.  But  how  could 
she  know  of  me  ?  What  reason  was 
there  for  her  to  avoid  me  ?  " 

"  Evelyn  is  an  impulsive  creature,"  was 
the  answer  ;  and  now  the  blood  rushed  into 
Kitty's  cheek,  and  she  was  silent. 

"  Impulsive,  yes ;  but  how  could  she 
resent  a  man  she  had  never  seen ;  who 
had  not  had  the  smallest  opportunity  to 
prove  whether  or  not  he  was  obnoxious  to 
her  ?  That  is  quite  too  ridiculous,  I 


think.     You,  who   have  so  much   sense,    A  Vir- 
character,  judgment,  why  could  not  you   ginia 
exercise  your  influence  over  this  very  pro-    Cousin 
vincial  little  person,  and  teach  her  that  a 
prejudice  is,  of  all  things,  petty  ?  " 

41  She  is  not  a  provincial  little  person," 
said  Kitty,  with  spirit.  "  And  she  does 
not  merit  that  patronizing  tone  of  yours." 

"  If  you  take  her  under  your  wing,  she 
is  perfection,"  he  answered  lightly,  as  if 
the  subject  were  no  longer  of  value  for 
discussion.  "  But  before  we  begin  to 
differ  about  her,  only  tell  me  if  it  is  my 
Aunt  Myrtle's  objection  to  me  as  a  type 
that  my  truculent  Cousin  Eve  has  inher- 
ited ?  " 

"  I  hardly  think  so.  Please  ask  me  no 
questions,"  the  girl  said,  uncomfortable 
with  blushing. 

"  As  you  like.  It  is  veiled  in  mystery," 
he  said,  rather  piqued.  "At  least,  you 
won't  mind  informing  me  if  she  got  any 
of  her  ideas  of  me  from  you.  No,  that 
is  hardly  fair.  I  will  alter  it.  Did  you 
and  she  ever  speak  of  me  together  ?  " 

"  What  if  I  tell  you  yes,  and  that,  every 


A  Vir-  time  we  met  ?  "  exclaimed  Miss  Ainger, 
ginia  plucking  up  courage  when  thus  driven  into 
Cousin  a  corner. 

To  her  surprise  and  dismay,  Vance  took 
this  admission  quite  otherwise  than  she 
had  meant  it.  In  Eve's  attitude  toward 
him,  he  thought  he  read  a  girlish  jealousy 
of  the  object  preoccupying  the  affections 
of  her  friend. 

"  I  see.  I  understand,"  he  said,  with  a 
gleam  in  his  eyes  she  had  not  seen  there 
in  all  of  their  acquaintance.  Until  now, 
the  hearth-rug  had  been  between  them. 
With  an  animation  quite  foreign  to  him, 
he  crossed  it,  and  leaned  down  to  take  her 
hands.  At  once,  Kitty,  withdrawing  from 
his  grasp,  rose  to  her  feet  and  faced  him. 
"  I  think  there  is  some  great  mistake," 
she  said,  very  quietly.  As  Vance  gazed 
at  her,  he  became  aware  that  he  had  until 
now  never  seen  the  true  Kitty  Ainger,  and 
that  her  face  was  beautiful. 

"  You  repulse  me  ?  You  have  never 
cared  for  me  ?  "  he  said,  fiercely. 

A  wave  of  color  came  upon  her  cheeks, 
and  her  eyes  dropped  before  his  to  the  vio- 
lets in  her  hand. 

[26] 


"  I    must    tell   you,"  she  said,  after  a    A  Vir- 
pause,  during  which  both  thought  of  many   ginia 
things  stretching  back  through  many  years,   Cousin 
"  that  I  have  just  promised  to  marry  Mr. 
Crawford." 


Chapter  II 

A  Fir-  '"T^HE  day  of  Miss  Ainger's  marriage 
ginia        •*•   with  Crawford,  which  took  place  in 
Cousin    New  York,  a  month  later  than  the  events 
heretofore  recorded,  found  Vance  Town- 
send  on  horseback  in  Virginia,  following, 
with  no  especial  purpose,  a  highway  that 
crosses    the    Blue    Ridge     Mountains    to 
descend    sharply   into    the   valley  of   the 
Shenandoah. 

Before  leaving  home,  he  had  acquitted 
himself  of  conventional  duty  to  the  bride 
by  ordering  to  be  sent  to  her  the  finest 
antique  vase  of  his  collection,  —  a  gem 
of  carved  metal  that  Cellini  might  have 
signed,  —  filled  with  boughs  of  white  lilac, 
his  card  and  best  wishes  accompanying  it. 
Then,  with  a  heart  overburdened,  as  he 
fancied,  with  regretful  self-reproach,  he 
had  turned  his  back  upon  the  chief  might- 
have-been  of  his  experience. 

Katherine,  who  had,  in  fact,  passed 
many  days  in  her  paternal  mansion  un- 


sought  by  him,  was  now  invested  with  a    A  Vir- 
veil  of  tender  sentiment.      In  his  waist-    glnia 
coat  pocket  he  carried  an  unfinished  poem,    Cousin 
addressed  to  her, —  or  to  an  idealized  ver- 
sion of  Miss  Ainger,  —  which,  at  intervals 
on  his  journey,  he  would  take  out  and  pol- 
ish  and   shape  with    assiduity,  forgetting 
sometimes  to  sigh  over  it  in  his  zeal  for 
metrical  construction. 

The  morning  of  the  day  that  was  to  see 
the  prize  he  had  lost  become  definitely 
another's  beheld  Vance  bargaining  with  a 
farmer  —  a  former  cavalryman  in  the 
Confederate  service  —  to  ride  one  of  the 
two  horses  he  had  shipped  by  train  from 
New  York,  and  serve  as  guide  in  the  war- 
harried  region  through  which  he  desired 
to  pass. 

The  process  was  a  simple  one,  the  sum 
negligently  offered  for  his  services  for  a 
day  sufficing  to  cover  the  expenses  of  ex- 
corporal  Claggett  for  a  fortnight,  and  leave 
a  margin  to  fill  his  pipe  with.  Therefore, 
the  rusty  squire  in  attendance  (to  whom 
the  treat  of  bestriding  a  steed  like  this 
would  have  been  requital  all-sufficient), 
the  riders  left  the  village  that  had  shel- 


A  Vir-  tered  Townsend  for  the  night,  and  at  once 
ginia      set  out  to  ascend  a  long  and  toilsome  hill, 
Cousin    giving  views  on  every  side  of  an  enchant- 
ing prospect. 

"  I  don't  mean  to  appear  boastful,  suh," 
observed  Mr.  Claggett,  modestly,  "  an'  I 
ain't  travelled  much  myself  out  o'  this 
State,  but  I  've  heerd  people  say  this  'ere 
view  beats  creation." 

"  It  is  very  fine,  certainly,  Claggett," 
replied  Vance,  halting  to  look  back  at  the 
wide  expanse  of  hill  and  valley  mantled 
with  springing  green,  the  far-off,  grassy 
heights  serving  as  pasture  for  sheep  and 
cows,  and  scattered  with  limestone  boul- 
ders, against  which  redbud  and  dogwood 
in  blossom  made  brilliant  patches;  with 
mountains  beyond,  above,  everywhere,  and 
all  of  that  exquisite,  velvet-textured  shade 
of  blue,  so  soft  and  melting  it  seems  to 
invite  caress. 

"  By  Jove  !  It  is  well  named  the  Blue 
Ridge,"  Vance  went  on,  approvingly. 

"Jest  there,  Mr.  Townsend,  in  that 
very  spot  where  the  old  red  cow 's  a- 
munchin'  in  the  grass,  was  where  Pelham 
stood  when  his  artillery  let  fly  at  them 


plucky  Yankee  cavalry  that  was   behind    A  Vir- 
the    stone    wall    firin'    like    fury    at    our   ginia 
Confeds."  Cousin 

"  And  who  was  Pelham  ?  "  asked  the 
visitor,  with  interest. 

"Never  heard  o'  Pelham?  Weil,  I 
would  n't  'a'  thought  it,"  was  the  compas- 
sionate answer.  "  Why,  suh,  he  was  a 
boy,  —  major  of  artillery  —  nuthin'  but  a 
boy,  —  an'  they  killed  him  early  in  the 
war.  But  he  'd  the  skill  an'  the  sense  of 
an  old  general ;  an'  there  wornt  no  risk  to 
himself  he  'd  stop  at  in  a  fight.  He  'd  just 
swipe  vict'ry,  every  time,  suh,  Pelham 
would ;  an'  he  was  the  pride  an'  idol  of 
our  army.  Thar  !  them  johnny-jump-ups 
are  growin'  where  his  gun  stood,  an'  he 
rammin'  charges  into  it  with  his  own  hand, 
when  he  sent  that  murderin'  volley  that 
made  batterin'-rams  out  o'  the  stones  o' 
the  wall  here,  an'  druv  the  poor  Yankees 
behind  it  into  Kingdom  Come.  Things 
look  different  to  me,  suh,  now.  I  was  a 
youngster,  then,  run  mad  to  git  into  any 
kind  o'  fightin' ;  but  I  've  got  sons  o'  my 
own  now,  an'  I  can't  somehow  see  the 
pints  in  all  that  killin'  we  did  in  our  war, 


A  Vir-  like  I  used  to.  But  I  can't  think  o'  fel- 
ginia  lers  like  Pelham  without  wantin'  to  be  in 
Cousin  it  again,  suh. 

"Why,  at  Snicker's  Gap  (heard  o' 
Snicker's  Gap,  Mr.  Townsend  ?)  that  lad, 
who  was  commandin'  Stuart's  horse- 
artillery,  charged  on  a  squadron  of  cavalry 
that  had  been  botherin'  him  with  its  sharp- 
shooters, and,  with  a  gun  that  they  'd 
dragged  by  hand  through  the  undergrowth, 
fired  a  double  charge  of  canister  into  their 
reserves.  Then,  suh,  he  charged  agin, — 
a  reg'lar  thunderbolt  that  sally  was, — 
picked  up  sev'ral  prisoners  an'  horses, 
an',  limberin'  up  his  gun  like  wild-fire, 
hurried  back  to  his  first  position,  his  men 
shoutin'  for  him  all  the  while." 

"  Those  were  stirring  days  for  you, 
Claggett,"  said  Townsend,  whose  blood 
began  to  answer  to  the  man's  enthusiasm. 
"  Yes,  Mr.  Townsend,  they  were  so ; 
but  you  must  n't  let  me  impose  on  you 
with  my  war  stories.  My  present  wife, 
suh,  —  a  young  lady  I  courted  in  King 
William,  about  the  age  of  my  oldest  daugh- 
ter,—  she  won't  have  me  open  my  mouth 
'bout  war  stories  at  our  house.  Says  I 


tire  everybody  out  with  my  old  chestnuts,    A  Vir- 
suh  ;  an'  perhaps  I  do.      The  ladies  like   ginia 
to  do  a  good  deal  of  the  talkin'  themselves,    Cousin 
I  've  noticed,  Mr.  Townsend." 

With  a  subdued  sigh,  Claggett  subsided 
into  silence,  but  not  for  long.  The  names 
of  Stuart  and  Mosby  and  their  officers 
were  ever  upon  his  lips,  interspersed  with 
anecdote  and  gossip  concerning  the  country 
people  whose  dwellings  were  only  occa- 
sionally seen  from  the  road.  Here  and 
there,  in  the  distance,  chimneys  behind 
clumps  of  trees  were  pointed  out  as  be- 
longing to  old  inhabitants  who  had  held 
on  to  their  homes  through  storm  and  stress 
of  ill-fortune  since  the  war. 

"  Since  you  are  from  the  Nawth,  I 
would  like  to  tell  you,  suh,  that  nobody 
who  is  anybody  among  our  gentry  ever 
lived  in  a  village.  They  lived  to  them- 
selves, suh,  an'  the  further  away  from 
each  other  the  better.  If  you  had  the 
time,  suh,  an'  were  acquainted  with  the 
families,  I  could  show  you  some  places 
that  would  surprise  you.  An'  the  ladies 
an'  gentlemen,  Mr.  Townsend,  of  our 
best  old  stock  are  as  fine  people  as  any  on 

[JJ] 


A  Vir-  God's  earth,  I    reckon.     Pity    you  ain't 

ginia       acquainted,  as  I  said.     It  would  give  me 

Cousin     pleasure  to  take  you  inside  some  of  the 

gates  of  our  foremost  residents." 

Vance  noted  with  amusement  that 
Claggett  did  not  assume  to  be  on  a  social 
plane  with  the  people  he  extolled,  but  had 
accepted  the  tradition  of  their  superiority 
as  part  of  the  Virginian  creed.  Laughing, 
he  joined  in  the  honest  fellow's  regret  at 
his  ineligibility  to  take  rank  as  a  guest  in 
the  neighborhood. 

41  Though  it  seems  to  me,  Claggett,  now 
that  I  think  of  it,  I  have  a  kinsman  some- 
where hereabout.  Do  you  know  anything 
of  a  family  of  Carlyles  —  Colonel  Car- 
lyle,  I  believe  they  call  him  ?  " 

Claggett's  manner  underwent  instant 
transformation. 

"Colonel  Guy  Carlyle,  of  the  Hall, 
suh  ?  "  he  exclaimed,  eagerly.  "That's 
in  the  next  county,  a  matter  of  twenty  or 
thirty  miles  from  here.  I  had  the  luck  to 
serve  under  the  Colonel,  Mr.  Townsend, 
and  he  'd  know  me  if  you  spoke  my  name. 
You  '11  be  goin'  that  way,  suh  ?  We  '11 

' 


strike  north  from  Glenwood,  and  get  there    A  Vir- 
by  supper-time."  ginia 

"Hold  on,  Claggett,  you '11  be  pouring  Cousin 
out  my  coffee  and  asking  me  to  take 
more  of  the  Colonel's  waffles,  presently. 
Colonel  Carlyle  married  my  mother's 
cousin,  but  I  fancy  would  not  recognize 
my  name  as  quickly  as  yours.  I  have  cer- 
tainly no  grounds  for  venturing  to  offer 
myself  as  an  inmate  of  his  house." 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  suh,  but  the 
Colonel  'd  never  get  over  a  relation  ridin' 
so  near  the  Hall  an'  not  stoppin'  there 
to  sleep,"  persisted  Claggett.  "  It 's  a 
thing  nobody  ever  heard  of,  down  this 
way." 

"  I  shall  have  to  brave  tradition,  then," 
answered  Vance,  indifferently. 

u  It 's  a  fine  old  place,  suh.  House 
built  by  the  Hessian  prisoners  in  the  Rev- 
olution, and  splendid  furniture.  They  do 
say  there  's  one  mirror  in  the  big  saloon 
that  covers  fourteen  foot  of  wall,  Mr. 
Townsend.  Yanks  bivouacked  in  that 
room,  too,  but  did  n't  so  much  as  crack  it. 
An'  chandeliers,  all  over  danglers  like  ear- 


A  Vlr-  rings,  suh.     For  all  they  ain't  got  such  a 

ginia      sight  o'  money  as  they  had,  Miss    Eve, 

Cousin    she 's  got  a  real   knack  at  fixin'  up,  an' 

she 's  travelled  Nawth,  an'  got  all  the  new 

ideas.     You  must  'a'  met  Miss  Eve  when 

she  was  Nawth,  Mr.  Townsend.     Why, 

suh,  she's  the  beauty  o'  three  counties; 

nobody  could  pass  her  in  a  crowd,  or  out 

of  it." 

"  I  have  met  Miss  Carlyle,  Claggett," 
Vance  said,  growing  uncomfortable  at  the 
recollection.  "  But  only  once,  and  for  a 
moment.  As  you  say,  she  is  a  beautiful 
young  woman." 

"  Then  you  will  stop  at  the  Hall,  suh  ?  " 
pleaded  his  guide. 

"  No,"  said  Vance,  briefly.  "  We  will 
go  on  to  Glenwood,and  sleep  there  at  the 
inn.  To-morrow,  you  shall  show  me  as 
much  of  the  country  as  I  have  enjoyed 
to-day,  but  I  am  here  for  travelling,  and 
not  to  cultivate  acquaintance,  understand." 

"  Up  yonder,  on  the  hill-top,  suh," 
observed  Mr.  Claggett,  ignoring  rebuke, 
"when  we  git  through  this  little  village 
we  're  comin'  to  (I  was  in  a  red-hot  skir- 
mish once,  right  in  the  middle  of  the 


street,  ahead,  suh),  is  a  tree  we  call  the    A  Vir- 
Big    Poplar.      It   marks    the   junction   of  ginla 
three   counties,   an'  't  was    there    George    Cousin 
Washin'ton   slept,  when    he  was  on    his 
surveyin'   tour   as    a    boy,  suh  —  you've 
heard    of    General   Washin'ton    up    your 
way,  Mr.  Xownsend  ?  " 

"  Yes,  confound  you,"  said  Vance, 
laughing  at  his  sly  look. 

"  General  Lee  halted  at  that  point  to 
look  at  the  country  round,  on  his  way  to 
Gettysburg.  A  great  friend  of  Colonel 
Carlyle  was  the  General,  suh  ;  you  '11  sec  a 
fine  picture  of  the  General  in  the  dinin'- 
room  at  the  Hall.  Colonel  Carlyle  lost 
two  brothers  followin'  Lee  into  battle,  suh, 
but  we  call  that  an  honor  down  here. 
They  do  say  little  Miss  Eve  keeps  the  old 
swords  and  soldier  caps  of  them  two 
uncles  in  a  sort  o'  altar  in  her  chamber, 
suh.  Heard  the  news  that  Miss  Eve  's 
engaged  to  her  cousin,  Mr.  Ralph  Corbin, 
in  Wash'n't'n,  suh  ?  It 's  all  over  the 
country,  I  reckon.  He  's  a  young  archy- 
tec',  an'  doin'  well ;  but  down  here  nobody 
knows  if  a  young  lady 's  engaged  for  sure, 
till  the  day  's  set  for  the  weddin'." 

[J7] 


A  Vir-       At  this  point  Vance  interrupted  his  gar- 

ginia       rulous  guide  to  suggest  that  they  should 

Cousin     seek  refreshment  for  man  and  beast  in  the 

hamlet  close  at  hand  ;  and  the  diversion 

this    created     turned    Claggett    from    the 

apparently   inexhaustible    subject    of    the 

Carlyles. 

They  rode  onward,  the  genial  sun,  as 
it  mounted  higher  in  the  heaven,  serving 
to  irradiate,  not  overheat,  the  beautiful 
earth. 

From  this  point  the  road  went  creeping 
up,  by  gentle  degrees,  to  the  summit  of 
the  mountain,  beyond  which  Shenandoah 
cleft  their  way  in  twain.  Traversing 
Ashby's  Gap,  the  efflorescence  of  the 
woods,  the  music  of  many  waters,  the 
balm  of  purest  air,  confirmed  Vance's 
satisfaction  in  his  choice  of  an  expedition. 
Descending  the  steep  grade  to  the  river, 
they  crossed  the  classic  stream  upon  the 
most  primitive  of  flat  ferry-boats,  and  on 
the  further  side  passed  almost  at  once  into 
a  rich,  agricultural  country,  upon  a  well- 
kept  turnpike,  where  the  horses  trotted 
rapidly  ahead. 

Claggett,  strange  to  say,  did  not  resume 


allusions  to  the  Carlylc  family  ;    but  upon    A  Vir- 
reaching  a  certain  cross-road,  he  ventured    ginia 
an  appealing  glance  at  his  employer.  Cousin 

"  Turn  to  the  right  here,  to  get  a  short 
cut  to  Carlyle  Hall,  suh." 

"  Where  does  the  left  road  take  us  ?  " 
asked  Vance,  shortly. 

"  You  kin  git  to  Glenwood  that  way, 
Mr.  Townsend.  But  it 's  a  roundabout 
way,  an'  a  new  road,  an'  a  pretty  bad  one, 
an'  it 's  just  in  the  opposite  direction  from 
Colonel  —  " 

Vance  answered  him  by  riding  to  the 
left. 

A  new  road,  with  a  vengeance,  and  one 
apparently  bottomless,  the  horses  at  every 
step  plunging  deeper  into  clinging,  red- 
clay  mud  ;  but  the  obstinacy  of  Vance 
kept  him  riding  silently  ahead,  and  the 
trooper,  with  a  quizzical  look  upon  his 
weather-beaten  face,  followed.  Miles, 
traversed  in  this  fashion,  brought  them 
into  the  vicinity  of  a  small  gathering  of 
houses,  at  sight  of  which  Vance  spoke  for 
the  first  time  in  an  hour. 

"  Claggett." 

"Yes,  suh  ?  "     This,  deferentially. 

[JP] 


jl  yir-  "  If  I  ever  go  back  of  my  own  free  will 
glnia  over  that  infernal  piece  of  road  "  —  he 
Cousin  paused  for  a  sufficiently  strong  expression. 

"  Yes,  suh?  "  said  Claggett,  expectantly. 

"  You  may  write  me  down  an  ass." 

"  Yes,  suh"  Claggett  exclaimed,  with 
what  Vance  thought  a  trifle  too  much 
alacrity.  "  Better  let  me  go  befo'  you  for 
a  little  piece,  Mr.  Townsend,"  added  the 
countryman.  "  Just  where  the  road  slopes 
down  to  the  crick,  here,  it 's  sorter  treach- 
erous, if  you  don't  know  the  best  bit." 

Vance,  choosing  to  be  deaf,  kept  in 
front.  He  traversed  the  creek  in  safety  ; 
but,  in  ascending  the  other  side,  his  horse 
plunged  knee-deep  into  a  quagmire,  — 
throwing  his  rider,  who  arose  none  the 
worse  except  for  a  plaster  of  red  mud, — 
and  emerged  evidently  lamed. 

"  He's  all  right,  suh,  excep'  for  a  little 
strain,"  said  the  ex-trooper,  after  his  ex- 
perienced eye  and  hand  had  passed  over 
Merrylad's  injuries. 

"  We  will  go  at  once  to  the  hotel  in 
the  village,  and  get  quarters  for  the  night," 
said  Vance,  ruefully.  "  I  've  a  change  of 
clothes  in  that  bag  you  carry,  so  I  don't 


mind  for  myself.     But  I  would  n't  have    A  Vlr- 
Merrylad  the  worse  for  this  for  anything."    ginia 

"  The  trouble  is,  Mr.  Townsend,"  an-    Cousin 
swered  Claggett,  "  that  you  may  get  quar- 
ters fit  for  a  horse  here,  but  you  won't  be 
stoppin'  yourself,  I  '11  tell  you." 

"  Nonsense  !  Come  along  !  You  lead 
Merrylad ;  I  'm  glad  to  stretch  my  legs  by 
a  walk,"  and  the  young  man  started  off  at 
a  good  pace,  plashing  ever  through  liquid 
mire,  that  overflowed  street  and  so-called 
sidewalk. 

There  was  no  sign  of  an  inn  of  any 
kind.  A  few  dilapidated  houses  of  the 
poorest  straggled  on  either  side  the  street, 
at  the  end  of  which  they  came  upon  a 
country  store  and  post-office  combined. 
Three  or  four  mud-splashed  horses  hitched 
to  a  rock ;  as  many  mud-splashed  loungers 
upon  tilted  chairs  on  the  platform  before 
the  door.  That  was  all. 

"  Better  take  'em  on  to  old  Josey's, 
Charley,"  called  out  a  friendly  voice  to 
Claggett. 

"  Yes,  old  Josey  will  do  the  correct 
thing  by  them,"  remarked  a  full-bearded, 
sunburned  gentleman,  who,  seated  astride 

Ol 


A  Vir-  of  a  mule,  now  came  "  clopping  "  toward 
glnia  them  through  the  mud,  from  the  opposite 
Cousin  direction. 

"  I  am  really  afraid,  Mr.  Townsend," 
Claggett  said,  persuasively,  "  that  we  shall 
be  forced  to  go  on  a  mile  or  so  further,  to 
old  Josey's." 

"  And  who  in  the  thunder  is  old  Josey  ? " 
exclaimed  Vance,  testily. 

"  Never  heard  o'  him  up  Nawth,  suh  ?  " 
answered  the  trooper,  with  a  twinkle  in 
his  eye.  "  He  's  the  big  person  o'  this 
part,  —  an  old  bachelor, —  Mr.  Joseph 
Lloyd,  who  runs  the  best  farms  and  raises 
the  best  stock  in  the  neighborhood.  The 
truth  is,  not  many  visitors  come  here,  un- 
less they  are  booked  for  Mr.  Lloyd's." 

"What  claim  have  I  on  him,  unless  I 
can  pay  my  night's  lodging  and  yours  ?  I 
will  leave  you  and  the  lame  horse  here, 
and  make  my  way  back  to-night  to  Glen- 
wood." 

"  To  get  to  Glenwood,  you  'd  have  to 
pass  over  right  smart  of  that  mire  we  came 
through,"  said  Claggett,  pensively. 

"  Then,  in  Heaven's  name,  let  us  go 


to  Josey's,"  said  Vance,  laughing,  in  spite    A  Vir- 
of  his  bad  humor.  ginia 

They  bade  farewell  to  the  village,  and    Cousin 
went  off  as  they  had  come,  Vance  choos- 
ing to  walk,  the  trooper  leading  the  lame 
horse. 

And  now,  in  defiance  of  his  plight,  his 
melancholy  appearance,  the  accident  to  his 
favorite,  Vance  yielded  himself  to  the  spell 
of  a  region  that  became  at  every  moment, 
as  he  advanced,  more  wildly  beautiful. 
The  sun,  about  to  set,  sent  a  flood  of  radi- 
ance over  hills  high  and  low,  over  a  broken 
rolling  country  dominated  by  the  massive 
shaft  of  Massanutton  Mountain,  rising  like 
a  tower  above  his  lesser  brethren.  That 
the  "  mile  or  two  further  on  "  stretched 
into  four  or  five,  the  young  man  cared  not 
a  jot.  His  lungs  filling  with  crisp,  invig- 
orating air,  he  strode  forward,  and  was 
almost  sorry  when  the  dormer-windows  of 
an  old  house  shrouded  by  locust-trees  in 
bloom  appeared  upon  a  plateau  across 
intervening  fields. 

"  Now  for  my  best  cheek  !  "  he  said  to 
himself.  "  What  am  I  to  say  to  old  Jo- 


A  Fir-  sephus  ?  Ask  for  lodging,  like  the  tramp 
ginia  I  look  ?  Hang  it !  I  believe  I  '11  sleep 
Cousin  under  the  nearest  haystack,  rather  !  " 

While  thus  absorbed,  Mr.  Theodore 
Vance  Townsend,  the  fine  flower  of  vari- 
ous clubs,  did  not  perceive  that  he  was  an 
object  of  varying  interest  and  solicitude  to 
three  persons  looking  over  the  fence  of 
a  pasture  near-by,  where  cattle  were 
enclosed. 

Two  elderly  gentlemen  surveyed  him 
closely.  A  girl,  who  had  tossed  a  glance 
at  him  over  her  shoulder,  seemed  to  find 
more  attraction  in  the  Alderney  heifer, 
whose  saucy  rough  tongue  was  at  that 
moment  stretched  out  to  lick  salt  from  a 
velvet  palm,  than  in  the  mud-stained  way- 
farer. 

"That's  no  common  tramp,"  said  one 
of  the  gentlemen  to  the  other.  "  If  you 
will  stay  here  with  my  Lady-love,  I  '11 
just  go  and  investigate  his  case." 

Vance  Townsend  had,  perhaps,  like 
other  mortals,  known  his  "  bad  moments  " 
in  life.  But  he  felt  that  there  had  been 
few  like  this,  when  the  old  gentleman, 
issuing  through  a  gate  opening  from  the 


pasture,  came  to  him   with  a    quick,  de-    A  Vir- 
cided  step.  ginia 

The  younger  man  took  off  his  hat.  Cousin 
The  older  did  likewise.  And  then  Vance, 
between  a  laugh  and  a  groan,  told  his 
story,  confirmed  by  the  apparition  at  that 
moment,  in  the  distance,  of  the  horses  and 
Claggett,  who  was  himself  afoot. 

"  Say  no  more,  my  dear  fellow,  say  not 
another  word,"  interrupted  the  astonished 
old  gentleman.  "  My  name  is  Lloyd,  and 
I  'm  the  owner  of  that  house  behind  the 
locusts,  where  I  'm  delighted  to  take  you 
in, and  Charley  Claggett,  too.  We'll  find 
out  what 's  the  matter  with  your  horse, 
quick  enough.  Welcome  to  Wheatlands,  r 

sir,  and  just  come  along  with  me." 

Before  Vance  fairly  knew  how,  he 
found  himself  in  a  "  prophet's  chamber," 
looking  upon  a  sloping  roof,  where  a  mar- 
tin was  nesting  within  reach  of  his  hand. 
Tapping  the  panes  of  the  upper  sash  of 
his  window,  a  branch  tasselled  with  sweet- 
smelling  blossoms  swayed  in  the  breeze. 
Outside,  he  had  a  wide  and  glorious  view 
of  field  and  mountains.  Inside,  he  pos- 
sessed a  clean,  if  homely,  bedroom,  at  the 


A  Vir-  door  of  which  a  soft-voiced  negro  woman 
ginia  was  already  knocking,  to  ask  for  his  be- 
Cousin  spattered  garments. 

Vance  was  delighted.  When  he  fur- 
thermore found  left  at  his  portal  a  tub 
with  a  large  bucket  of  ice-cold  water  from 
the  spring,  together  with  his  bag,  he  be- 
gan to  think  that  Virginia  hospitality  was 
not  to  be  relegated  among  things  tradi- 
tional. 

The  soft  Virginia  dusk  was  closing  upon 
the  scene,  when  our  young  man,  leaving 
his  room,  went  down-stairs,  through  a  hall 
hung  with  trophies  and  implements  of  sport, 
and  out  of  an  open  door  upon  the  "  front 
porch,"  to  look  at  the  evening  star  hang- 
ing above  the  mountain  crest.  In  this 
occupation  he  found  another  person  indulg- 
ing likewise,  and  in  the  clear  gloom  dis- 
covered the  face  and  figure  of  a  young  and 
singularly  graceful  girl,  who  without  hesi- 
tation accosted  him. 

"  Mr.  Lloyd  has  told  us  of  your  mis- 
hap," she  said,  courteously.  "  He  is  con- 
gratulating himself  that  it  happened  near 
enough  to  let  him  help  you  out  of  it.  I 


hope  the  horse  will    fare  as  well  as  the    A  Vir- 
master."  ginla 

"  Merrylad  will  be  all  right,  thank  you,    Cousin 
so  Claggett  has  been  up  to  tell  me.     It 
appears  that  Mr.  Lloyd,  in  addition  to  his 
other    attractions,    is    a    famous    amateur 
vet." 

"  You  will  find  he  has  all  the  virtues," 
she  said,  laughing.  At  that  moment,  a 
lamp,  lighted  by  the  servant  in  the  hall, 
sent  a  stream  of  illumination  upon  them. 
To  Townsend's  utter  surprise,  he  saw  the 
face  of  his  cousin,  Evelyn  Carlyle. 

"  You  !  "  he  heard  her  say,  in  a  not  too 
well  pleased  tone  ;  and  "  You  ?  "  he 
repeated,  with  what  he  felt  to  be  not  a  dis- 
tinguished success. 

"  How  extraordinary  that  it  should  turn 
out  to  be  you  !  "  she  began  again,  first  of 
the  two  to  recover  her  composure.  "  Did 
you  think  —  were  you,  that  is,  on  your 
way  to  visit  us  ?  " 

"  Nothing  was  further  from  my 
thoughts,"  he  answered,  bluntly.  "  I,  on 
the  contrary,  believed  myself  to  be  going 
in  the  opposite  direction  from  where  you 
live." 


Jl  yir-       "  Of    course,"    she     said,    somewhat 

ginia      piqued.     "  It  is  impossible  you  should  have 

Cousin     known  that  papa  and  I  came  yesterday  on 

a  visit  to  dear  old  Cousin  Josephus.     I 

beg  your  pardon  if  I  was  very  rude." 

"  It  is  certainly  not  a  welcome  that 
seems  inspired  by  what  I  have  been  led 
to  think  is  Virginia  cordiality,"  he  an- 
swered, coolly. 

"  But  I  have  asked  your  pardon,  and 
that 's  not  the  way  to  answer  me.  You 
might  grant  it,  never  so  stiffly;  and  after 
that,  we,  being  thrown  together  this  way 
through  no  fault  of  either  of  us,  might 
agree  to  be  decently  civil  before  f>apa, 
who  can  have  no  idea  how  I  feel  toward 
—  I  mean  what  my  reasons  are  for  feel- 
ing—  well,  never  mind  what  I  mean," 
she  ended,  vexed  at  his  immobility. 

"  I  quite  join  with  you  in  thinking  it 
would  be  very  silly  to  take  any  one  else 
into  this  armed  neutrality  of  ours.  I  shall 
at  the  earliest  moment,  to-morrow,  relieve 
you  of  my  presence.  Suppose,  until  then, 
you  try  to  treat  me  as  you  would  another 
unoffending  man  under  my  circumstances." 
"  Yes.  You  are  right.  It  would  be 


better,  and  it  would  not  worry  papa  and    A  Vir- 
Cousin  Josephus,"  she  said,  reflectively,   ginia 
"  Well,  then,  if  you  were  another  man,  I    Cousin 
should  begin  by  asking  you  what  brought 
you    to   Virginia.     No ;    that  would    not 
be  at  all  polite,  would  it  ?      I  think  I  shall 
just  say  nothing  at  all." 

"  Not  till  you  let  me  assure  you  that  I 
came  because  a  fellow  I  know  told  me  he 
had  made  a  driving  tour  in  this  part,  last 
year,  with  his  wife,  and  had  found  it 
rather  nice  —  and  another  reason  was, 
that  I  wanted  to  get  away  from  myself." 

"  You  are  very  flattering  to  our  State," 
she  said,  bridling  her  head  after  a  fashion 
he  found  both  comical  and  sweet.  She 
was'  silent  a  little  while,  then  resumed, 
more  gently  : 

"  I  was  thinking  of  what  you  last  said, 
and  maybe  I  have  done  you  an  injustice. 
Maybe  you  are  to  be  pitied  more  than 
blamed." 

"  Do  you  mean  because  I  spoiled  a 
good  suit  of  clothes  and  hurt  my  horse's 
leg?" 

"  No  ;  not  that.  You  are  clearly  not 
in  need  of  sympathy.  There  !  They  are 


A  Vir-  going  to  ring   the    supper-bell,    and    you 

ginia       must  go  and  be  introduced  to  my  father, 

Cousin     as  his  cousin.     He  is  the  dearest  daddy  in 

the  world,  and  will  be  sure  to  try  to  make 

you  come  to  visit  us  at  the  Hall." 

"  Am  I  to  understand  this  is  a  hint  not 
to  accept  ?  " 

"  I  could  stay  on  here,  you  know,"  she 
said,  in  a  businesslike  way. 

"  You  are  perfectly  exasperating,"  he 
exclaimed,  and  then  the  summons  came 
to  go  into  the  house.  Just  before  they 
crossed  the  threshold,  she  appeared  to  have 
undergone  another  change  of  mind. 
Turning  back  swiftly,  in  a  voice  of  exceed- 
ing sweetness  she  breathed  into  his  ear 
these  words : 

"  Please,  I  am  sorry.  I  ought  not  to 
keep  forgetting,  ought  I,  that  you  are  a 
stranger  within  our  gates,  and  a  cousin, 
really  ? " 

u  Is  she  a  coquette  ?  "  Vance  began  to 
ask  himself,  but  was  interrupted  by  a 
sortie  of  his  host  in  search  of  him. 


O] 


Chapter  III 

VANCE    TOWNSEND    had     reckoned    A  Vir- 
without  his  host  when  he  made  the    ginia 
declaration    that   he   would    relieve    Miss    Cousin 
Carlyle  of  his  presence  the  following  day. 
The  kind  owner  of  Wheatlands,  indulgent 
to  every  man  and  beast  upon  his  premises, 
had  yet  a  way  of  holding  on  to  and  con- 
trolling guests  that  none  might  resist. 

Vance,  however,  did  not  try  very  hard 
to  resist  the  invitation  to  stay  at  least  until 
"  Thursday,  when  the  Carlyles  would  be 
running  away  home."  An  evening  spent 
with  the  kind,  simple,  yet  cultivated  peo- 
ple who  formed  the  little  coterie  at  Wheat- 
lands  (there  was  among  them  a  widowed 
cousin  with  her  unruly  boy,  and  a  cousin 
who  had  been  unfortunate  in  his  invest- 
ments) had,  somehow,  quite  upset  our 
hero's  notions  upon  many  points. 

Claggett,  dismissed  with  a  douceur,  the 
liberality  of  which  consoled  that  worthy 
countryman  for  an  early  reunion  with 


A  Vir-  the  lady  who  would  not  allow  him  to 
ginla  tell  stories  of  the  war,  took  an  affection- 
Cousin  ate  leave  of  his  employer.  In  his  man- 
ner Vance  detected  more  satisfaction  in 
the  vindication  of  Virginia  customs  than 
regret  at  the  severance  of  their  relation. 
The  little  triumph  Claggett  might  readily 
have  derived  from  the  incident  of  the  way- 
farer's meeting,  in  spite  of  himself,  with 
his  relations  was  heroically  suppressed. 
And  before  Townsend  had  turned  upon 
his  pillow  the  morning  after  his  arrival,  a 
telegram  had  gone  to  the  town  where  his 
luggage  had  been  left,  ordering  it  to  be 
sent  by  train  that  day. 

Vance  had  been  told  that  breakfast 
would  be  at  nine  ;  and,  awakened  at  half- 
past  seven  by  a  bird  on  the  bough  in  his 
window,  he  abandoned  himself  to  a  lazy 
review  of  his  impressions  of  the  family. 
Of  his  Cousin  Eve  he  had  seen  little  more 
than  what  has  already  been  told.  After 
filling  her  place  at  a  bounteous  supper- 
table,  where  the  talk  was  chiefly  absorbed 
by  the  three  gentlemen,  she  had  vanished, 
in  company  with  the  widowed  cousin,  and 
was  invisible  thereafter  —  the  men  sitting 


together  till  midnight  in  the  large,  raftered    A  Vlr- 
hall,  with  a  fire  in  its  wide  chimney,  that   ginla 
served  the  old  bachelor  for  a  general  liv-    Cousin 
ing-room. 

Vance  could  not  remember  to  have 
seen  a  face  of  finer  lines,  a  manner  of 
finer  courtesy,  than  that  of  his  seventy- 
year-old  host,  who,  in  spite  of  the  rust  of 
desuetude  in  worldly  ways,  carried  his 
inbred  gentility  where  all  who  approached 
him  might  profit  by  it. 

That  he  was  a  politician  went  without 
saying ;  and,  indeed,  the  talk  once  directed 
in  the  channel  of  national  government  had 
kept  there  until  they  separated.  On  a 
claw-footed  table  holding  a  lamp  beside 
Mr.  Lloyd's  easy  chair,  covered  with 
frayed  haircloth,  Vance  saw  lying  a  crisp 
new  Review  of  English  publication,  and 
all  about  were  piled  newspapers  and  mag- 
azines, while  shelves  displayed  row  upon 
row  of  the  antique,  tawny  volumes  that 
had  made  up  the  complete  library  of  a 
country  gentleman  in  the  days  of  old  Jose- 
phus's  grandfather. 

Around  the  hearth,  coming  and  going 
with  every  opening  of  many  doors,  gath- 

[5J] 


A  Vir-  ered  dogs  of  fine  and  varied  breeds.     One 
ginia       old  patriarch  of  a  St.   Bernard,  who  at- 
Cousin     tached  himself  particularly  to  the  stran- 
ger, had  remained  close  to  Vance's  feet, 
and  gravely  escorted  him  to  bed. 

In  his  kinsman,  Guy  Carlyle,  a  hand- 
some man  of  fifty  odd  years,  who  in  a 
military  youth  had  been  noted  for  deeds  of 
daring  that  rang  through  the  army  of 
Northern  Virginia,  but  had  long  since 
resigned  himself  to  the  peaceful  pursuits 
of  agriculture,  Vance  saw  the  origin  of 
Eve's  rare  beauty.  He  also  became 
aware  that,  of  a  large  family  of  sons  and 
daughters  born  to  the  now  widowed  Colo- 
nel, Eve  was  the  sole  survivor ;  and  it  did 
not  need  the  expression  that  irradiated  her 
father's  face  when  her  name  was  touched 
upon  to  show  in  what  estimation  she  was 
held  by  him. 

The  tinge  of  melancholy  in  Mr.  Car- 
lyle's  manner  had,  however,  no  effect  like 
repression  of  the  cordial  friendliness  he 
extended  to  the  newcomer.  Vance  had 
gone  to  rest  with  a  feeling  that  he  had 
conferred  a  genuine  favor  upon  his  two 


elders  by  according  to  them,  as  he  had,    A  V'tr- 
his  company.  ginia 

Spite  of  these  conditions  of  good-fel-  Cousin 
lowship,  he  awoke  next  morning  con- 
scious that  there  was  one  under  the  roof 
with  him  who  had  the  power  (and  no  de- 
sire to  withhold  it)  to  make  him  far  from 
comfortable ;  to  puzzle  him,  to  banter 
him,  to  pull  him  up  with  a  jerk  at  the 
moment  he  might  feel  that  he  was  getting 
reasonably  ahead  with  her;  to  punish  him, 
it  would  appear,  for  some  offence  he  could 
not  own  to  having  committed. 

It  was  very  clear  that  Eve  thought  him 
a  poor  fellow,  mentally  and  morally  ;  that, 
apart  from  her  specific  grudge  against  him, 
of  nature  unknown,  she  was  not  in  the 
least  inclined  to  pay  tribute  to  his  position, 
fashion,  culture,  wealth,  —  the  appendages 
of  Vance  Townsend's  personality  people 
around  him  had  always  been  disposed  to 
make  so  much  of.  In  the  firmament  of 
American  society,  he  took  himself  to  be 
a  planet  of  first  importance.  In  other 
lands,  he  had  enjoyed  more  than  a  reason- 
able share  of  social  success.  Why  should 
he  here,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  feel 

[55] 


A  Vir-  like  a  man  coming  in  fancy  costume  to  a 
ginia  dinner  where  all  the  other  guests  wore 
Cousin  plain  clothes  ? 

It  must  be  the  doing  of  that  girl.  STie 
it  was  who,  with  a  few  words,  a  cool 
glance  or  two  that  appeared  to  read  his 
soul,  had  brought  him  into  this  strait ;  and 
Vance  was  still  young  enough  to  feel  him- 
self flame  with  resentment  of  her.  Then 
fell  upon  his  mental  ear  the  soft  cadence 
of  her  voice,  asking  his  pardon  for  having 
possibly  misjudged  him,  and  his  anger 
passed. 

As  from  Eve  he  went  on  to  think  of 
Kitty  Ainger,  now  Mrs.  Crawford,  Vance 
was  surprised  at  the  freedom  from  sore- 
ness the  reflection  left  upon  his  mind. 
Mrs.  Crawford,  he  even  reflected,  was 
really  an  admirable  woman  — just  the  wife, 
as  everybody  had  said,  for  a  rising  fellow 
like  Crawford,  who  would  surely  reach 
the  top  !  She  had  shown  her  good  sense  in 
taking  him.  Was  it  possible  Vance  had 
ever  thought  anything  else  ? 

On  a  table  near  the  bed  lay  the  con- 
tents of  a  pocket  emptied  overnight  — 
among  them  a  folded  paper,  inscribed  with 

[5*] 


the   latest  and  most  satisfactory  draft  of    A  V'tr- 
his  verses  to  Kitty.     This  he  now  seized,   ginia 
and,  upon  re-reading  it,  a  flush  that  was    Cousin 
not  of  tender  consciousness  overspread  his 
face.      Regardless  of  the  loss  to  the  world 
of  poetry,  ignoring   the  recurrent  efforts 
that  Calliope  had  witnessed,   he  deliber- 
ately tore  it  up,  and  went  to  the  open  win- 
dow prepared  to  scatter  the  tiny  remnants 
upon  a  matin  beeeze. 

A  view  of  wide  green  plains,  with  here 
and  there  a  clump  of  noble  trees,  of  soar- 
ing blue  hills  beyond  them,  all  shining  in 
the  morning  sun,  met  his  eye  ;  and  almost 
directly  beneath  his  window  were  a  couple 
of  horses,  of  which  one  was  bestridden 
by  old  Josephus,  in  a  nankeen  coat  and 
venerable  Panama  hat ;  the  other,  little 
more  than  a  colt,  was  held  by  a  negro  and 
saddled  for  a  woman's  use. 

"  Lady-love  !  Lady-love,  I  say  !  "  called 
out  the  old  gentleman,  in  a  voice  of 
Stentor. 

"  Coming,  coming,  come  !  "  gaily  an- 
swered somebody ;  and  in  a  moment 
Vance's  Cousin  Eve  appeared. 

Springing  lightly  upon  the  segment  of 

[57] 


A  fir-  an  enormous  tree  that  served  as  horse- 
ginia  block,  she  dropped  into  her  saddle,  and 
Cousin  devoted  herself  to  subduing  the  juvenile 
remonstrance  of  her  steed. 

With  the  fragments  of  his  effusion  to 
Kitty  Ainger  still  in  hand,  Vance  felt  a 
curious  sensation,  as  though  the  old  world 
had  suddenly  become  young  and  beautiful 
and  tuneful ;  and  then,  from  his  ambush, 
he  heard  Josephus  say  : 

"  I  'd  half  a  mind  to  rouse  up  our  vis- 
itor, and  take  him  with  us  to  see  the  sheep 
in  Six-Acre  Lot.  The  ride  before  break- 
fast would  have  given  him  a  good  idea  of 
the  way  my  land  lies." 

"  O  Cousin  Josey,  I  am  so  thankful 
you  did  not  1  "  answered  Eve,  with  sin- 
cerity unmistakable. 

uTut,  tut,  my  dear  child,"  began  Mr. 
Lloyd,  rebukingly  ;  but  Eve,  who  just  then 
succeeded  in  starting  her  colt  in  the  right 
direction,  was  off  and  away,  sending  back 
a  trill  of  laughter  to  her  ancient  cavalier, 
who  made  good  speed  to  follow  her. 

The  new  conviction  of  his  folly  in  hav- 
ing agreed  to  remain  under  the  same  shel- 
ter with  Miss  Carlyle  did  not  prevent  Mr. 


Townsend    from    making   his   appearance    A  Vir- 
with  an  excellent  appetite  at  the  breakfast-   ginia 
table,   whither   he    was  duly  escorted    by    Cousin 
Bravo,  the  old  dog  he  had  found  outside 
his  bedroom  door  waiting  to  take    him  in 
charge. 

With  Bravo  and  another  dog  or  two  at 
heel,  Vance  had  walked  off  his  pique  over 
dew-washed  slopes  of  short,  rich  grass  to 
a  summit  near  the  house,  to  be  joined  on 
the  return  by  Colonel  Carlyle,  who  had 
strolled  out  to  meet  him. 

Breakfasts  at  Wheatlands  were  justly 
considered  the  chefs  cTceuvre  of  old  Josey's 
cook.  Vance,  helping  himself  to  quickly 
succeeding  dainties  seen  for  the  first  time, 
cast  a  mental  glance  backward  to  the  egg 
and  a  cup  of  tea  that  formed  his  accus- 
tomed meal  at  home.  Half-way  in  the 
repast,  Eve,  who  had  been  changing  her 
habit  to  a  pretty  cotton  gown,  slipped  into 
place  between  her  father  and  the  widow, 
who  was  pouring  out  the  coffee. 

u  What !  What !  "  said  Cousin  Josey, 
detecting  her  absence  from  a  seat  at  his 
side,  that  would  have  brought  her  face  to 
face  with  Townsend.  "  My  Lady-love 

[5?] 


A  Vir-  desert  me  like  that  ?     Come  back,  little 
ginia       runaway,  and  see  your  Cousin  Vance  taste 
Cousin     his  first  mouthful  of  a  Wheatlands  ham  !  " 
Thus  adjured,  Eve  could  but  take  the 
seat  indicated ;  and  Vance,  who  had  deter- 
mined to  be  no  longer  oppressed    by   so 
small  and  pink  a  person,  bestowed  on  her 
an   openly  admiring  glance  that  angered 
her  anew. 

"  We  must  leave  you  to  Eve's  mercies 
this  morning,  Mr.  Townsend,"  observed 
their  host,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  repast. 
"  Carlyle  and  I  have  promised  to  ride  over 
to  the  County  Court  to  hear  a  case  tried, 
and  to  call  on  the  Judge,  who  is  an  old 
college  chum  of  the  Colonel's.  We  shall 
be  home  to  dinner  at  two,  and  you  young 
people  must  entertain  each  other  until 
then." 

"  Could  you  not  manage  not  to  show 
so  plainly  what  you  feel  ?  "  asked  Vance 
in  his  cousin's  little  ear,  as  they  left  the 
table.  "  Pray  believe  that  I  am  not  a 
party  to  the  infliction  put  upon  you." 

They  had  strolled  bareheaded  out  under 

the  trees  shading  the  lawn  about  the  house. 

"  Shall  we  never  have  done  quarrelling  ? " 


said   Eve,  wearily.      u  Just  as   I  think   I    A  Vir- 
begin  to  feel  kindly  toward  you,  something   ginia 
happens,  and  I  break  down  again."  Cousin 

"  Were  we  not  moderately  successful 
last  night,  when  I  assumed  to  be  somebody 
else  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes  ;  that  is  better.  I  will  treat  you 
as  I  would  any  other  man  stopping  here  — 
any  one  not  of  your  exalted  class,  I  mean." 

"  That  was  a  quite  unnecessary  taunt. 
But  I  will  allow  it  to  pass  if  you  agree  for 
to-day  —  until  the  gentlemen  return — to 
treat  me  as  you  would  Mr.  Ralph  Corbin, 
for  example." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked, 
quickly.  "  Ralph  is  the  dearest,  most 
obliging  cousin  I  have,  and  I  impose  upon 
him  dreadfully.  If  he  were  here,  I  should 
begin  by  sending  him  indoors  to  fetch  my 
hat  and  parasol  from  the  hall  rack,  and  a 
new  magazine  I  left  in  the  window-seat, 
and  tell  him  to  call  the  dogs  to  come  with 
us — What!  you  can't  intend  to  conde- 
scend to  wait  upon  a  mere  girl,  a  country 
cousin  ?  " 

He  was  off  and  back  again  with  the 
articles  demanded,  showing  no  enmity  in 


A  Fir-  the  smile  offered  with  them  to  her  accept- 
glnia  ance.  But  he  did  not  at  once  surrender 
Cousin  the  periodical,  or  until  he  had  satisfied  him- 
self of  the  contents  of  the  page  held  open 
by  a  marker  of  beaten  silver. 

"  You  don't  mind  my  looking  at  what 
you  read  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  If  you  like.  It  is  some  verses  —  not 
what  you  would  care  for,  in  the  least,  but 
they  have  given  me  great  pleasure." 

A  glance  showed  him  that  his  suspicion 
was  correct.  The  stanzas  in  question 
had  been  written  by  him  some  months 
before,  and  sent,  unsigned,  to  the  editor. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  what  you  fancy  in 
these  ?  "  he  said,  with  fine  indifference  of 
manner. 

"  Why  does  one  like  a  flower,  or  wor- 
ship a  star  ?  They  suit  me,  I  suppose, 
and  I  am  learning  them  by  heart." 

His  own  heart  throbbed  with  a  school- 
boy's glee  and  pride.  But  he  said  noth- 
ing, and  walked  beside  her  light  figure,  in 
the  round  of  garden  and  orchard,  bringing 
up  in  the  stable-yard.  Here,  a  space 
paved  with  grass-grown  cobblestones  was 
bounded  on  three  sides  by  frame  structures, 


now,  in  their  decay,  as  gray  and  as  fragile-   A  Vir- 
looking  as  hornets'  nests.  ginia 

"  And  the  little  house  built  of  lime-  Cousin 
stone,  with  one  window,  was  put  up  in 
Colonial  days,  for  refuge  in  case  of  an 
Indian  raid.  Mr.  Lloyd  will  tell  you  one 
of  his  best  stories,  about  an  adventure  of 
his  ancestor  in  there,  when  three  white 
men  successfully  resisted  a  band  of  red- 
skins. Perhaps  our  aboriginal  anecdotes 
would  bore  you,  however.  If  so,  give  us 
only  a  little  hint,  and  we  desist.  Now, 
shan't  we  go  in  and  see  your  horses  ? " 

She  lifted  the  latch  ;  Vance  followed  her, 
past  stalls  where  the  occupants  gave  her 
immediate  recognition,  to  those  in  which 
his  own  pair  were  comfortably  ensconced. 
Merrylad,  ungallant  fellow,  would  have 
none  of  the  young  lady,  but  at  the  touch 
and  voice  of  his  master,  turned  his  beauti- 
ful head  sidewise  to  lay  it  upon  Vance's 
shoulder  with  affection. 

"  I  am,  at  last,  an  illustration  of  the 
legend,  c  Some  one  to  love  me,' "  he  said, 
laughing.  "  So  you  thought  I  had  for- 
saken you,  old  man  ?  Not  I,  my  beauty. 
Gently,  gently,  you  are  too  demonstrative." 


^  yir-  "  1  can't  imagine  life  without  horses 
ginia  and  dogs  j  can  you  ?  "  she  said,  with  the 
Cousin  quickly  growing  comradeship  of  a  child. 
"  There  ;  I  was  determined  that  Merry- 
lad  should  let  me  stroke  his  neck  !  " 

From  the  stables,  whose  inmates  seemed 
to  have  put  them  upon  a  better  footing, 
they  passed  again  under  the  pink-blos- 
somed arcades  of  an  apple-orchard,  to 
pause  beside  a  curious  indentation,  like  a 
dimple,  in  the  turf. 

"  Just  here,"  began  Evelyn,  —  "  but  I 
shall  not  tell  you,  unless  you  promise  to 
be  properly  impressed,  —  a  sad  fate  over- 
came a  dishonest  negro  servant  of  Mr. 
Lloyd's  ancestor.  He — the  servant,  I 
mean  —  was  a  fellow  much  given  to  acro- 
batic feats,  and  was  accustomed  to  divert 
his  master's  guests  by  tumbling  and  turn- 
ing cart-wheels.  One  day,  he  robbed 
old  Mr.  Lloyd's  money-chest,  and  filling 
his  pockets,  went  out  in  the  orchard,  and 
testified  his  glee  by  standing  on  his  head." 

"  What  happened  ?  Evidently  some- 
thing of  a  supernatural  nature." 

"  The  earth  opened,  and  out  came  a 
great  hairy  red  hand,"  said  Eve,  "  (I  am 


telling  it  to  you  as  my  nurse  told  it  to  me)    A  Vir- 
and  c  cotched  him  by  de  hayde,  and  drawed   ginia 
him  down.' "  Cousin 

"  What  evidence  do  they  offer  of  this 
event  ? " 

"  That  is  the  thrilling  part.  About 
fifty  years  ago,  when  the  present  owner 
was  just  of  age,  some  men  at  work  in 
this  place  dug  up  a  treasure  of  golden 
4  cob-coins,'  clipped  here  and  there  to  reg- 
ulate their  value,  as  the  custom  was  in 
olden  days.  And  there,  wedged  in  the 
earth  where  the  gold  lay  scattered,  was 
the  skeleton  of  a  man  standing  upon  his 
head  ! " 

u  Proof  positive,"  said  Vance,  laughing. 

"  I  thought  I  should  convince  you.  As 
an  actual  fact,  the  coins  brought  six  hun- 
dred dollars  at  the  Philadelphia  mint, 
and  the  money  was  distributed  among  the 
finders." 

"  Imagine  how  many  darkeys  have 
stolen  out  here,  since,  to  work  at  night 
with  pick  and  shovel !  I  suppose  that 
accounts  for  the  depression  of  the  sod." 

"  I  myself  found  a  George  II.  coin  in 
the  garden  yesterday.  See  !  If  I  were  to 


A  Fir-  give  it  to  you,  do  you  think  it  would  bind 
gima  you  to  continue  to  be  4  some  one  else,' 
Cousin  during  the  rest  of  your  stay  with  us  ?  " 

He  took  the  bit  of  copper  she  held  out, 
wondering,  as  he  had  done  the  night 
before,  whether  this  kindly  mood  meant 
coquetry,  then  deciding  it  was  but  the 
frolic  spirit  of  a  wholesome  and  untram- 
melled youth  not  to  be  restrained.  What- 
ever it  meant,  he  would  profit  by  it.  A 
creature  so  bright,  so  impulsive  as  this, 
his  new-found  cousin,  was  not  within  his 
ken,  even  if  the  occasional  prick  of  her 
wit  did  keep  him  in  an  attitude  of  self- 
defence. 

"  Her  cheeks  are  true  apple-blossoms," 
he  found  himself  murmuring,  irrelevantly, 
as  he  pursued  her  through  the  tunnel  of 
orchard  boughs.  "  But  her  lips  —  what  ? 
Ah!  bard  beloved,  I  thank  you  — 4  Her 
mouth  a  crimson  flower.'  That 's  it. 
4  Her  mouth  a  crimson  flower.'  " 

"  What  are  you  talking  about,  back 
there  ? "  exclaimed  his  guide,  turning 
sharply  to  call  him  to  account. 

"  Did  I  speak  aloud  ?     I  was  —  ah  — 
[66] 


only  wondering  where  we   are    going  to    A  Vir- 
bring  up  ?  "  ginia 

44  Do  I  tire  you  ?  Perhaps  you  are  not    Cousin 
used  to  walking.     Never  mind  ;  we  shall 
soon  reach  the  graveyard,  and  then  you 
can  sit  upon  the  stone  wall  and  rest." 

"  I  think  I  can  last  to  the  graveyard," 
meekly  said  the  young  man,  whose  tramps 
in  the  Alps  and  Dolomites  and  Rockies 
had  included  of  "broken  records"  not  a 
few. 

"  Now,  you  are  laughing  at  me,"  she 
said,  suspiciously.  "  But  you  know  I  have 
never  heard  of  you  except  as  a  lounger  in 
clubs  and  a  leader  of  cotillons" 

Vance  thought  it  useless  to  protest. 

They  now  reached  an  enclosure  under 
a  grove  of  maples,  where,  motioning  him 
to  sit  upon  a  low  wall  tapestried  with  moss 
and  fern  and  creepers,  she  perched  upon 
the  gnarled  root  of  a  tree,  and,  opening 
her  book,  prepared  to  become  absorbed 
in  it. 

"  Suppose  you  read  aloud  to  me,"  he 
suggested,  with  cunning  aforethought. 

44  This  ?  "  she  said,  doubtfully,  survey- 


A  Vir-  ing  his  verses.  "  Oh,  no;  I  think  not. 
gima  You  would  hardly  care  for  this.  It  is 
Cousin  something  quite  out  of  your  line,  don't 
you  see  ?  The  writer  gives  expression  to 
a  perfectly  straightforward,  yet  eloquent, 
expression  of  a  true  man's  true  feeling, 
about  a  thing  of  every  day.  It  is  not  only 
that  the  words  are  lovely  and  the  sentiment 
is  noble,  but  the  measure  ripples  like  a 
stream  —  Why,  what  is  the  matter  with 
you  ?  One  would  think  you  know  the 
author." 

u  I  am  afraid,  upon  reflection,  that  I  do 
not  know  the  author,"  he  said,  drawing 
back  into  his  shell. 

"  If  you  did,  I  should  get  you  to  thank 
him  for  me  for  this,"  she  resumed. 
"  They  say  authors  are  always  disappoint- 
ing to  meet,  after  one  has  idealized  them 
through  their  writings.  But  be  would  not 
be.  No ;  I  would  trust  him,  through 
everything,  to  be  a  noble  gentleman.  Of 
course  he  is  unworldly.  I  believe  he  lives 
in  a.  remote  Territory,  and  despises  petty 
conventionalities  of  society, especially  those 
in  New  York.  And  I  think  he  never  even 
heard  of  that  dreadful  400  of  yours." 


Vance,  smiling  at  her  girlish  nonsense,    A  Vir- 
felt   himself,  nevertheless,  lapped   in   the   ginla 
Elysium  of  her  speech.  Cousin 

Then  her  mood  changed  to  pathos,  as 
she  told  him  the  story  of"  Cousin  Josey's" 
single  episode  of  love,  ending  in  the  mound 
beside  them,  where  slept  the  old  man's 
bride-betrothed  of  seventeen,  —  a  ward  of 
his  mother,  —  who  had  died  of  a  tragic 
accident,  forty  years  agone. 

"  And  every  day,  since,  he  has  come 
here.  See,  there  are  fresh  wood-violets 
upon  her  breast.  And  the  dear  old  man 
has  never  thought  of  such  a  thing  as  giv- 
ing her  a  successor.  Now,  let  us  go. 
There  are  lambs  to  show  you,  and  a  lot 
of  other  things." 

The  passing  cloud  was  gone  from  her 
April  face.  She  was  again  radiant,  and  in 
some  bedazzlement  of  mind  he  arose  and 
followed  her. 

Townsend's  acquaintance  with  his  Vir- 
ginia cousins  had,  as  might  have  been 
expected,  prolonged  itself  into  a  visit  to 
Carlyle  Hall ;  and  he  was  on  the  eve  of 
departure,  after  a  stay  of  two  weeks  in 


A  Vir-  that  delightful  refuge,  before  he  realized 
ginia  how  much  his  fancy  had  begun  to  twine 
Cousin  around  the  place  and  its  inmates. 

Sentiment  for  the  young  creature  who 
was  its  ruling  spirit  he  did  not  admit,  other 
than  the  natural  tribute  of  his  age  and  sex 
to  hers.  Nor  did  he  give  her  credit  for 
more  than  temporary  feeling  on  any  point 
disconnected  with  her  strong  local  attach 
ments.  Her  father,  her  home,  and  those 
she  grandiosely  called  her  "  people  "  — 
meaning,  he  supposed,  the  individuals  in- 
debted to  Providence  for  having  been  born 
within  the  limits  of  her  State  —  were  the 
objects  of  Eve's  warm  affection. 

Vance  felt  sure  her  courteous  thought 
of  him  was  the  result  of  only  transmitted 
consideration  for  a  guest.  So  soon  as  he 
should  quit  the  pleasant  precincts  of  the 
Hall,  he  feared  he  must  put  aside  his  claim 
to  even  this  consideration.  This  condition 
of  affairs  worried  our  young  man  more 
than  he  cared  to  admit  to  himself.  To  no 
one  else  would  he  have  confessed  that  the 
fortnight  had  been  spent  by  him  in  a  daily 
effort  to  impress  upon  her  a  personality 
widely  different  from  her  conception  of  it. 


•^ 

^% 


Now,  at  the  end  of  his  enterprise,  he  was    A  Vir- 
conscious  that  he  had  not  advanced  in  the   ginia 
endeavor  ;    and   this   last   evening   in  her    Cousin 
company  was  correspondingly  depressing 
to  his  amour  propre. 

They  were  sitting  together  in  a  win- 
dow-seat of  the  drawing-room,  looking 
into  an  old-world  garden  with  box  walks, 
a  sun-dial,  and  a  blaze  of  tulips  piercing 
the  brown  mold.  From  the  western  sky, 
facing  them,  the  red  light  was  vanishing, 
and  in  the  large,  dim  room  a  couple  of 
lamps  made  islands  of  radiance  in  a  sea  of 
shadows.  In  the  library,  adjoining,  sat 
the  Colonel,  reading,  his  strong,  handsome 
head  seen  in  profile  from  where  they  were. 

Sounds  of  evening  in  the  country,  the 
whistle  of  a  negro  in  the  distance, 
alone  broke  the  spell  of  silence  brooding 
over  the  old  house.  Vance  hesitated  to 
further  disturb  it,  the  more  so  that  Evelyn 
had  been  in  a  mood  of  unusual  gracious- 
ness.  Nor  did  he,  in  truth,  feel  prepared 
to  broach  the  discussion  of  certain  things 
he  had  put  off  until  now. 

"  To-morrow,"  he  said  at  last,  with  a 
genuine  sigh,  "  I  shall  be  on  my  way 


A  Vir-  northward,  and  this  beautiful,  restful   life 
gima      will  be  among  my  has-beens." 
Cousin         "  Too  restful,  I  'm  afraid,"  she  cried,  in 
her  brusque,  schoolgirl   fashion.     u  Your 
Aunt  Myrtle  always  speaks  of  Virginia  as 
nothing  but  a  c  cure,'  which  she  is  clearly 
glad     to     have    accomplished    and     lived 
down." 

"  It  has  been  a  cure  for  me  in  another 
sense.  I  wonder  if  you  know  what  you 
have  done  for  me  ?  " 

"  I  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Don't  fence  with  me  now. 
For  once,  believe  in  your  cousin,  who  is, 
after  this,  going  to  leave  you  for  a  long 
time  in  peace.  Tell  me ;  when  I  shall 
have  gone,  and  that  big,  comfortable 
4  spare  room '  is  put  in  order  again  for  the 
next  guest,  shall  you  sometimes  think  of 
the  subject  of  your  missionary  labors  in 
the  past  two  weeks  ?  " 

41  But  I  have  never  undertaken  to 
reform  you,"  she  said,  in  a  vexed  tone. 
"  It  is  absurd  for  you  to  think  I  imagined 
myself  capable  of  that.  The  best  I  could 
hope  for  was  that  your  visit  should  pass 
without  o\ir  coming  to  open  conflict. 


Papa  could  tell  you  I  promised  him  to  try    A  Vir- 
that  this  should  be  so."  ginia 

"  Then   I  am  indebted  to  your  father   Cousin 
for  the  modicum  of  personal  consideration 
you  have  vouchsafed  me  ?  "   ' 

"And  Cousin  Josey  —  yes,"  she  an- 
swered, with  startling  candor.  "  At  the 
same  time,  I  must  say,  I  like  you  now 
better  than  I  believed  I  ever  could.  It 
makes  me  wish  with  all  my  heart  I  could 
trust  you." 

Vance  felt  a  sting  that  was  not  all 
resentment,  or  all  pain.  The  expression 
of  her  eyes,  so  fearless,  so  intense,  waked 
in  him  a  feeling  that,  in  the  moment  they 
had  reached,  he  desired  nothing  so  much 
in  all  the  world  as  to  win  this  "  mere 
girl's  "  approval.  The  color  deepened  in 
his  face,  as  he  said  : 

"  And  yet  you  have  given  the  author  of 
those  verses,  who  happens  to  be  myself, 
credit  for  something  in  which  you  could 
place  faith  ?  " 

"  You  — you  ?  "  she  exclaimed,  starting 
violently.  "  Ah  no  !  Don't  destroy  my 
ideals." 

"  This   may   be  wholesome,   but   it  is 

[7J] 


A  Vir-  certainly  not   pleasant,"  he  said,  praying 

gin'ia       Heaven  for  patience. 

Cousin  There  was  nothing  of  her  customary 
light  spirit  of  bravado  in  the  manner  in 
which,  after  a  pause,  she  next  spoke  to 
him. 

"  I  hardly  know  how  —  for  the  sake  of 
others,  I  mean,  not  on  my  own  account 
—  to  ask  if  it  is  possible  you  have  not,  in 
connection  with  me,  given  a  thought  to 
one  who  was  my  daily,  intimate  companion 
all  of  last  winter." 

"  That !  "  he  interrupted,  with  a  dry 
laugh.  "  Why  not  arraign  her  for  the 
wreck  of  me  ?  " 

"  You  understand  me,  I  see,"  she  said, 
with  meaning.  "  Let  me  say  this,  then : 
that  I  hold  a  trifler  with  women's  hearts 
to  be  the  most  despicable  of  characters. 
A  man  who  is  too  indolent  or  too  infirm 
of  purpose  to  deny  himself  the  pleasure 
he  gets  from  watching  his  progress  in  a 
girl's  affections  is  an  offender  the  law 
may  n't  reach,  but  he  deserves  it  should. 
That  he  makes  his  victim  old  before  her 
time,  in  his  gradual,  refined  disappoint- 
ment of  her  hopes,  may  not  count  for 


much,  in  your  estimation.      But  —  but —    A  Vir- 
oh  !   I  could  not  have  believed  it  of   the   ginia 
person  who  wrote  those  verses  !  "  Cousin 

There  were  tears  in  her  honest  eyes,  a 
tremor  in  her  young  voice.  Save  for 
these,  Vance,  who  had  walked  away  from 
her  a  dozen  steps,  would  have  continued 
to  put  distance  between  himself  and  this 
"  angel  at  the  gate." 

As  it  was,  he  controlled  himself  suffi- 
ciently to  return  and  say,  in  a  hard, 
strained  voice  : 

"  I  shall  not  attempt  to  change  your 
estimate  of  me.  But  I  am  glad  you  have 
given  me  an  opportunity  to  tell  you  that 
on  the  day  I  saw  you  first,  I  went  directly 
from  my  aunt's  house  to  ask  {Catherine 
Ainger  to  be  my  wife.  Some  day,  when 
you  are  older,  and  know  more  of  the 
world,  and  take  broader  views  of  poor 
hunfahity,  all  these  things  may  seem  to 
you  different.  Then  you  may,  perhaps, 
admit  that,  with  all  my  faults,  I  could 
never  be  such  a  cad  as  you  have  pictured. 
In  the  little  time  that  we  are  together 
now,  please,  let  us  say  no  more  about  it." 

He  walked  away,  joining  the  Colonel, 


A  Vir-  to  engage  that  unsuspecting  gentleman  in 
ginia  an  exhaustive  discussion  of  politics. 
Cousin  Eve  sat  for  awhile  in  her  dusky  corner, 
absorbed  in  thought.  She  had  decided  to 
say  a  few  words  to  him,  before  he  should 
go,  that  might  contribute  to  her  relief 
rather  than  his.  But  Vance  gave  her  no 
opportunity  to  speak  any  words  to  him, 
except  those  of  conventional  farewell. 
Betimes,  next  morning,  he  took  leave  of 
his  cousins ;  and  the  Virginia  episode  was 
over. 

After  he  had  left,  Eve  locked  herself  in 
her  room,  and  gave  way  to  a  burst  of 
tears. 


Chapter    IV 

IN  a  railway  carriage  that  had  long  before    A  Vir- 
left  Genoa  with  the  ultimate  intention   ginia 
of  getting  into   Rome,  a  girl  sat,  tranced    Cousin 
in  satisfaction,  looking  from  the  window, 
throughout  an  afternoon  of  spring.     To 
speed   thus   leisurely  between  succeeding 
pictures  of  a  scenery  and  life  she  seemed 
to  recognize  from  some  prior  state  of  ex- 
istence—  although  now,  in  fact,  seen  for 
the  first  time  —  was  a  joy  sufficient  to  an- 
nihilate fatigue. 

The  milk-white  oxen  ploughing  the  red 
fields  ;  the  peasant  women  at  work  amid 
young  vines  ;  the  sheets  of  wild  flowers  ; 
the  pink  and  white  and  blue-washed  villas, 
with  their  terraces  and  palms  and  flower- 
pots ;  the  hedges  of  roses,  and  groves  of 
olive  and  eucalyptus  ;  above  all,  the  classic 
names  of  stations,  albeit  placarded  in  a 
commonplace  way,  —  made  Miss  Evelyn 
Carlyle,  lately  a  passenger  of  a  steamer 

[77] 


A  Vlr-  arriving  at  Genoa  from  America,  turn  and 
ginia      twist  from  side  to  side  of  the  carriage,  and 
Cousin     flush  and   thrill  with   satisfaction,  after  a 
fashion   causing  her  father,  who  accom- 
panied her,  to  rejoice  that  they  occupied 
their  apartment  undisturbed. 

As  evening  closed  upon  the  scene,  she 
at  last  consented  to  throw  her  head  back 
upon  the  cushion  of  the  seat,  and  admit 
she  was  a  prey  to  the  mortal  consider- 
ation of  exceeding  hunger.  Since  leav- 
ing Genoa,  a  roll  and  some  cakes  of  choc- 
olate, only,  had  supplied  the  luncheon  for 
a  journey  of  ten  hours.  Therefore,  when 
the  train,  stopping  after  dark  at  a  little 
buffet,  was  promptly  forsaken  by  its  pas- 
sengers, Eve  and  her  father  joined  the 
eager  throng  craving  refreshment  at  the 
hands  of  a  perspiring  landlord  and  his 
inefficient  aids. 

"  If  I  could  only  make  these  fellows 
understand,  perhaps  they  would  stop  to 
listen,"  said  Colonel  Carlyle,  growing 
wroth  at  the  struggling,  vociferating,  jost- 
ling crowd  massed  in  a  small  room, 
snatching  for  food  like  hungry  dogs. 
"Allow  me  to — By  Jove,  it's  the 


Colonel !  "  said  a  voice  behind  him,  whose    A  Vir- 
possessor  was  trying  to  pass  on.  glnia 

"  Ralph  Corbin  !      Where  did  you  drop    Cousin 
from  ? "  and,   "  Ralph,    this    is   too    de- 
lightful !  "  were  the  greetings  received  by 
the  young  man  thus  unexpectedly  encoun- 
tered. 

"  I  am  on  my  way  from  Nice  to  Rome 
to  meet  —  er  —  some  friends  who  are 
expected  there  for  the  Silver  Wedding  fes- 
tivities," said  he,  with  becoming  blushes. 

"  I  know,"  exclaimed  Evelyn,  glee- 
fully. "  I  was  sure  they  had  something 
to  do  with  it." 

u  But  it 's  uncertain  whether  they  have 
returned  from  Greece  yet ;  and  it 's 
awfully  jolly  to  meet  you,  anyway,  Eve, 
and  the  Colonel.  Here,  let's  get  some 
food,  and  I  '11  go  in  your  carriage  for  the 
rest  of  the  way,  of  course.  I  'd  not  an 
idea  you  were  coming  out  this  year." 

"  Nor  we,  until  a  fortnight  since,"  said 
Eve. 

Ralph  capturing  a  supply  of  bread,  and 
fruit,  and  roast  chicken,  they  made  off 
with  their  booty  to  the  train,  and  the  even- 
ing passed  in  merry  chat  and  explanation 


A  Vir-  of  their  plans.     Evelyn,  however,  by  no 
ginia      means  lost  the  consciousness  of  her  ad- 
Cousin     vance  for  the  first  time  upon  Rome ;  and 
when,  after    crossing  the  Tiber  at  mid- 
night, and    catching    glimpses,  on   either 
side   the  railway,  of  ruins  that   heralded 
their  vicinity  to  the  goal  of   her   hopes, 
she  was  keyed  to  high  excitement. 

Ralph  laughed  at  her  disappointment  as 
the  train  ran  slowly  into  a  large,  modern 
station  lighted  by  electricity,  and  deco- 
rated with  hangings  of  gold  and  crimson, 
a  crimson  carpet  spread  across  the  plat- 
form to  one  of  the  doors  of  exit.  When 
they  enquired  of  the  facchino  who  took 
their  bags  in  charge,  what  great  arrival 
was  expected,  the  man  answered  with  an 
indifference  worthy  of  democratic  New 
York :  "  It  is  for  the  Silver  Wedding  of 
their  Majesties,  Signer ;  but  there  are  so 
many  Kings  and  Emperors  and  Princes  in 
Rome  now,  we  have  ceased  to  take 
account  of  them." 

"  We  have  struck  Rome  at  a  crowded 
season,"  said  Ralph,  "  and  I  don't  know 
that  you  are  going  to  like  it  overmuch.  I 
say,  Eve,  if  Somebody  does  n't  come  for 


another  week  or  so,  what  a  heaven-send    A  Vir- 
you   and   your   father  will    be  to  me  for  ginia 
company  !  "  Cousin 

"  That  is  the  most  cold-blooded  way  of 
making  use  of  us  to  kill  time  with,"  said 
Eve  ;  but  she  bestowed  on  him  a  well- 
pleased  smile.  To  her,  Ralph  had  been 
ever  a  chum,  —  a  dear,  good  fellow,  who 
was  the  best  of  company.  His  unexpected 
appearance  here  promised  to  add  tenfold 
to  her  pleasure,  while  his  hopes  in  the 
affair  hinted  at  between  them  had  been, 
for  some  time,  familiar  to  her  in  detail. 

"  And  all  this  while  I  have  never  told 
you,"  he  went  on,  in  his  boyish  manner, 
"  that  at  Nice  I  fell  in  with  that  swell 
New  York  cousin  of  yours,  Vance  Town- 
send.  Not  half  a  bad  chap,  if  he  is 
rather  close-mouthed.  Shouldn't  won- 
der if  he  's  in  Rome,  now,  like  everybody 
else  in  this  part  of  the  world." 

"  Townsend  ?  "  said  the  Colonel,  with 
animation.  "  Glad  to  hear  there 's  a 
chance  of  seeing  him.  Just  a  year  —  is  n't 
it,  Eve  ?  —  since  he  visited  us  at  the  Hall. 
Well,  there  's  no  doubt  we  are  in  luck,  if 
we  meet  Vance  as  well  as  you,  Ralph." 


jl  V~ir.  "  The  funny  part  of  it  is,"  whispered 
ginia  the  joyous  Ralph  to  Evelyn, "  some  of  the 
Comln  people  we  both  knew  in  Nice  put  it  into 
Townsend's  head  I  was  coming  here  to 
meet  my  fiancee.  And  you  know,  Eve,  I 
am  not  engaged  to  her  yet ;  her  mother 
put  us  on  probation  for  six  months.  The 
six  months  are  out  next  week,  though,  and 
I  don't  think  it  would  hurt  Maud's  mamma 
to  hurry  herself  a  little  bit  to  get  here,  do 
you  ?  How  you  will  admire  Maud's  style, 
Evie  !  Her  hair  is  dark  as  — "  etc.,  etc., 
until  Evelyn  cut  it  short  by  jumping  into 
the  carriage  drawn  up  in  waiting  for  them. 
Just  now,  she  was  not  as  well  prepared 
to  listen  as  usual.  Certain  feelings  she 
had  believed  extinct  proved  themselves  to 
have  been  merely  dormant.  Even  the 
spectacle  of  Rome  en  fete,  by  night,  its 
bands  and  fountains  playing,  its  streets 
still  filled  with  lively  promenaders,  did  not 
wholly  distract  her  from  this  sudden  tu- 
mult of  an  emotion  she  was  not  prepared 
to  define. 

Constantly,  during   the   crowded   days 
that  followed,  while  they  drove  hither  and 
thither,  attracted  but  provoked  by  the  jum- 
[to] 


bling    of  ancient    and    modern    in    these    A  Vir- 
haunts   of  history,  she  tried   to   persuade   ginia 
herself  she  was  not  ever  on  the  alert  to    Cousin 
see  somebody  who  did  not  appear.     For, 
from  among  the  many  acquaintances  and 
a  few  friends  encountered  in  the  streets  of 
the    sociable  little   city,  Vance  was   per- 
sistently missing. 

Ralph,  however,  whose  sweetheart  also 
kept  her  distance,  proved  his  philosophy 
by  devoting  his  days  to  the  Carlyles ;  and 
thus,  under  a  sky  blue  as  the  fabled  Ely- 
sian  fields  of  Virgil,  the  festal  week  went 
on.  Wherever  their  Majesties  of  Italy 
and  Germany  passed  in  public,  they  were 
greeted  by  thoroughfares  black  with  peo- 
ple, windows  and  balconies  blazing  with 
flags  and  draperies,  the  clash  of  bands  and 
the  clank  of  soldiery. 

The  coachman  engaged  for  the  service 
of  our  friends  would  contrive,  wherever 
bound,  to  take  on  the  way  some  passing 
show  of  sovereigns  ;  and,  upon  a  certain 
fair  day,  for  no  reason  avowed,  he  drove 
them  into  the  tangle  of  vehicles  and  peo- 
ple always  seen  surrounding  the  doors  of 
the  Quirinal  Palace  whenever  there  was  a 


A  Vir-  chance  to  catch  glimpses  of  royalties  upon 
ginia      the  move.     There  ensconced,  the  saucy, 
Cousin    bright-eyed  fellow  stood  up,  pretended  his 
inability  to  get  out  of  the  snarl,  gesticu- 
lated, talked  to  his  friends  and  threatened 
his  enemies  in  the    crowd,  while  visibly 
rejoicing   in   the    opportunity   to    see    all 
likely  to  occur  in  that  coveted  quarter. 

"  Look  here,  cabby,  if  you  don't  move 
out  of  this  to  the  Baths  of  Caracalla  in 
just  two  minutes  and  a  half,"  began  Ralph, 
at  last,  in  emphatic  English  ;  but  he  had 
no  reason  to  go  on,  as  the  driver,  seeing 
the  young  man's  face,  gathered  up  the 
reins,  and  extricated  himself  with  much 
dexterity  from  the  crowd. 

Neither  of  his  passengers  noticed  that 
a  gentleman,  in  a  carriage  just  then  cross- 
ing theirs,  looked  at  them,  leaned  forward, 
gave  orders  to  his  coachman,  and  at  once 
proceeded  to  follow  on  their  tracks. 

In  the  glorious  ruin  of  the  greatest  of 
temples  to  athletic  exercise,  Evelyn  drew 
a  deep  breath  of  delight.  Nothing  in 
Rome,  not  even  the  Colosseum,  had  so 
impressed  her  with  the  grandeur  of  by- 


gone  achievement  in  architecture  as  this    A  Vir- 
wondrous  pile,  with  its  vast  spaces,  the    ginia 
gray   walls     breached    by    Time,   out    of   Cousin 
which  maidenhair  grew  and  crows  were 
flying  —  "crying  to  heaven  for  rain,"  as 
the  guide  poetically  explained  ;  the  stately 
columns  of  red  porphyry  grouped  around 
the  beautiful  mosaic  floors ;  the  lace-like 
traceries  of  carven  stone  ;  the  niches  and 
pedestals  from  which  marvels  of  old  sculp- 
ture had  been  removed ;  over  all,  the  air 
that  is  gold  and  balm  combined  ! 

Evelyn  leaned  against  a  column  ab- 
stractedly, while  Ralph  and  her  father 
walked  about,  discussing  with  their  guide 
facts  and  statistics  of  the  Thermae.  They 
had  indeed  strolled  quite  out  of  her  sight, 
when  a  shadow  on  the  pavement  beside 
her  caused  her  to  look  up.  If  an  answer 
to  thought  be  no  surprise,  then  was  not 
Evelyn  surprised ;  for  the  person  confront- 
ing her  was  Vance  Townsend. 

"  I  have  known  that  you  were  in  Rome 
ever  since  the  night  you  arrived,"  he  said, 
without  preamble  other  than  coldly  offer- 
ing her  his  hand.  "  I  happened  to  be  at 


A  Vir-  the  station  to  meet  an  English  friend,  when 
gin'ia  you  came  out ;  and  I  saw  you  get  into  your 
Cousin  carriage  and  drive  away." 

"  Then  you  can  hardly  claim  to  have 
earned  a  welcome  from  us,  now,"  she  be- 
gan to  say,  lightly,  but  found  it  impossible 
to  go  on,  checked  by  the  look  upon  his 
face. 

"  I  make  no  pretences,"  he  said,  bit- 
terly. "  If  you  care  to  know  that  I  have 
either  kept  you  in  view  every  day  since,  or 
else  have  gone  for  long  rides  into  the  coun- 
try, where  I  saw  nobody,  it  is  quite  true. 
I  have  done  everything  foolish,  everything 
foreign  to  my  principles  and  habits,  to  sat- 
isfy, or  to  get  away  from,  the  feeling  the 
sight  of  you  aroused  in  me.  I  wonder 
what  you'd  think,  if  I  told  you  I  've  been 
wandering  about  pretty  much  ever  since  I 
parted  with  you,  a  year  ago,  trying  to  get 
you  out  of  my  head.  Many  's  the  letter 
I  've  written  to  you  and  destroyed.  Twice 
I  set  out  to  see  you,  and  once  I  got  back 
into  the  neighborhood  of  your  home. 
When  I  saw  you  in  the  crowd  at  the  sta- 
tion here,  I  actually  thought  I  was  pos- 


sessed  —  "    He  checked  himself.    "I  beg    A  Vir- 
your  pardon.     I  have  no  right  to  say  these   ginia 
things  to  you,  I  know."  Cousin 

"  You  ?  You  ?  "  she  could  only  repeat, 
bewildered  by  the  meaning  in  his  tone  and 
the  expression  of  his  eyes.  "  Is  it  possi- 
ble that  you  —  " 

"  That  I  fell  in  love  with  you  that  time 
when  you  were  holding  me  to  account  for 
a  thousand  transgressions, committed  or  not 
committed  ?  Yes,  it  is  quite  possible.  That 
need  not  prevent  our  remaining  good 
friends,  need  it  ?  I  hope  I  've  too  much 
common  sense  to  ask  you  to  indulge  in  a 
discussion  of  these  points,  now  ;  during  the 
past  week,  I  've  been  engaged  continually, 
and  I  trust  with  some  success,  in  disposing 
of  the  last  remnant  of  hope  I  may  have 
cherished  that  some  day  things  might  work 
around  to  give  me  at  least  a  chance." 

"  You  make  me  very  unhappy,"  she  ex- 
claimed. 

"  That  is  far  from  my  wish,"  he  said, 
more  gently.  "  Just  at  present  you  ought 
to  be  walking  on  roses.  There !  Your 
father  and  Corbin  are  coming  back  this 


A  Vir-  way.  I  want  to  ask  you  to  help  me  to 
ginia  excuse  myself  in  your  good  father's  sight, 
Cousin  if  I  seem  unsociable." 

"  One  word,"  she  said,  the  blood  flam- 
ing into  her  cheeks.  "  It  is  due  you  to 
know  that  long  ago,  soon  after  you  left  us, 
I  received  a  letter  from  Katherine  Craw- 
ford,—  a  letter  that  made  me  understand 
many  things  I  had  judged  harshly  in  your 
conduct." 

"  Mrs.  Crawford  has  been  always  kind 
to  me,"  he  answered.  "  And  no  one  re- 
joices more  than  I  in  her  present  happi- 
ness." 

"  Yes,  she  is  happy,  —  perfectly  so,  — 
and  her  life  is  full  of  the  duties  that  best 
suit  her.  She  says  it  was  all  planned  out 
for  her  by  Providence,  and  kept  in  reserve 
until  she  was  fit  for  it." 

"  So  runs  the  world  away  !  "  he  ex- 
claimed, with  a  whimsical  gesture. 

After  that,  the  others  came,  and  there 
was  much  talk  of  the  subjects  naturally 
presenting  themselves.  When  they  moved 
out  of  the  enclosure  to  go  to  the  carriage, 
Vance  walked  with  the  Colonel,  following 
Evelyn  and  Ralph. 

[JW] 


"  You  will  dine  with   us  at  our  hotel    A  Vir- 
this   evening  ?  "    said    the    older   man,  at   ginia 
parting.  Cousin 

"  I  am  sorry  that  I  am  engaged,"  Vance 
answered,  with  appropriate  courtesy, "and 
that  to-morrow  I  am  off  for  Sicily.  Some- 
time, later  on  in  your  wanderings,  I  shall 
hope  to  run  upon  you  again.  This  is  the 
worst  of  pleasant  meetings  in  travel,  is  it 
not  ? " 

When  they  were  seated  in  the  victoria, 
he  shook  Evelyn's  hand  last. 

The  day  was  finally  at  hand  that  was  to 
bring  Ralph's  sweetheart  —  with  her  inci- 
dental father,  mother,  two  younger  sisters, 
and  a  governess — to  the  quarters  engaged 
for  them  at  Rome.  In  the  young  man's 
enthusiasm,  he  did  not  forget  to  wonder 
what  cloud  had  passed  over  his  Cousin 
Evelyn's  enjoyment  of  the  place,  the  sights, 
the  season.  He  even  consulted  the  Colonel 
as  to  whether  Eve  might  not  be  unduly  af- 
fected by  the  crowded  condition  of  the 
town,  and  proposed  for  them  to  change  to 
a  quieter  spot.  And  Eve's  father,  who 
had  had  his  own  anxieties  on  this  point, 


A  Vir-  prevailed  upon  her  to  give  up  the  engage- 
ginia  ments  she  had  made  with  apparent  zest, 
Cousin  and  resort  to  Naples  and  Sorrento. 

To  Naples,  accordingly,  they  went,  the 
faithful  Ralph  accompanying  them,  at  the 
cost  of  a  night-journey  on  his  return  to 
Rome  for  the  day  that  was  to  see  his  hap- 
piness in  flower.  He  drove  with  them  to 
their  hotel,  through  the  interminable  streets, 
lined  with  palaces  and  thronged  with  pau- 
pers, and  saw  them  ensconced  in  pleasant 
quarters  facing  Vesuvius,  whose  feather  of 
smoke  pointed  to  good  weather.  They 
dined  together  in  a  vast  salle-a-manger, 
where,  in  a  gallery,  was  conducted  during 
their  repast  a  noisy  and  mirth-provoking 
concert  of  fiddlers,  mandolins,  and  guitars, 
—  the  performers  singing,  shouting,  danc- 
ing, as  they  played.  There  was  an  hour 
before  his  train  left,  in  which,  while  the 
Colonel  smoked  upon  the  balcony  of  their 
sitting-room,  Eve  walked  out  upon  one  of 
the  quays  with  her  cousin  ;  and  this  hour 
Ralph  determined  to  improve. 

In  the  last  day  or  two,  trifles  had  shown 
this  astute  young  man  that  the  depression 
of  his  cousin  (for  whom  he  cherished  no 


grudge  because,  a  year  or  two  before,  he    A  Vir- 
had   been  wild  to  call  her  wife,  and  she   ginia 
would  not  hear  of  it)  had  been  coincident    Cousin 
with  the  meeting  in  Rome  with  Town- 
send.     That  very  morning,  he  had  found 
at  his  bankers',  had  read  and  put  into  his 
pocket,  a  letter  written  by  Vance  on  ar- 
riving at  Taormina,  which   had    thrown 
upon   the   subject    a   new  and   surprising 
light.    Just  how  to  convey  his  discoveries 
to  Evelyn,  the  most  proud  and  sensitive 
of  creatures  about  her  sacred  feelings,  he 
had  not  yet  decided. 

They  talked  of  the  bay,  of  the  moun- 
tains, of  Vesuvius.  Calmed  and  enchanted 
by  the  hour  and  scene,  Eve  wore  her  gen- 
tlest aspect,  and  Ralph  felt  emboldened  to 
begin. 

"  This  is  as  it  should  be,"  he  said,  with 
an  air  of  generalizing.  "  You  will  go  to 
Sorrento  and  Amalfi  and  Capri,  and  your 
roses  will  come  back.  I  shall  not  forget 
you,  Evie  dear,  because  I  am  getting  what 
I  most  want  in  life.  You  have  always 
been  to  me  a  thing  apart,  and  I  've  told 
Maud  so,  over  and  over  again.  By  and 
by,  I  shall  bring  her  to  the  Hall,  and  let 


A  Vir-  her  see  you  at  your  best,  as  its  mistress. 

ginia       For  you  are  not  quite  the  same  over  here, 

Cousin     Evie,  as  in  Virginia  air." 

"  Perhaps  I  am  growing  old,"  she  said, 
smiling.  "  But  never  mind  me.  We 
shall  miss  you,  Ralph,  and  it  will  require 
the  greatest  heroism  to  do  without  you. 
After  this  journey,  nobody  need  tell  me 
that c  three  is  trumpery.'  We  know  bet- 
ter, do  we  not  ?  " 

"  Why  not  send  for  your  other  cousin 
to  take  my  place  ?  "  said  Ralph,  seeing  his 
opportunity.  "  He  is  at  Taormina,  and 
would  come,  undoubtedly.  I  had  a  letter 
from  him  this  morning,  by  the  way.  The 
most  characteristic  letter,  —  just  like  the 
man." 

No  answer.  Ralph  felt  as  he  were 
treading  a  bridge  of  glass. 

"  To  explain  it,  I  should  have  to  go 
back  to  the  evening  of  that  meeting  in 
the  Baths  of  Caracalla.  He  came  to  me 
at  the  hotel,  and  after  a  friendly  chat,  just 
as  he  was  leaving,  took  occasion  to  say 
some  uncommonly  nice  things  about  my 
relations  with  (as  I  thought)  Maud ;  so  I 
thanked  him,  and  gushed  a  little  about  her, 


maybe,  —  in  my  circumstances,  a  fellow  's    A  Vir- 
excusable,  —  and  off  he  went,  I  never  sus-   ginia 
pecting  that  he  all  the  time  thought  I  was    Cousin 
going  to  marry  you." 

Here  Ralph  was  rewarded  by  a  genuine 
start  and  a  blush,  but  still  Eve  did  not 
speak. 

"  A  day  later,"  Ralph  went  on,  deter- 
mined now  to  do  or  die,  "  something  I 
recalled  of  our  conversation  made  me 
realize  the  mistake  he  was  under,  and  I 
wrote  him  a  letter  explaining  it.  Such  a 
time  as  I  had  to  find  his  whereabouts  ! 
His  banker  had  no  instructions  to  forward 
anything,  and  I  won't  tell  you  all  the  ups 
and  downs  of  trying  to  get  at  him.  Fi- 
nally, in  despair,  I  sent  the  letter,  on  the 
chance,  to  Taormina,  and  from  there  he 
answered  me." 

At  this  point,  in  revenge  for  her  indif- 
ference, the  diplomatist  remained,  in  his 
turn,  silent,  until  Eve,  who  could  bear  it 
no  longer,  turned  upon  him  her  beautiful 
young  face,  glowing  in  the  evening  light 
with  an  eager  joy.  "  And  —  and  ?  "  she 
exclaimed,  impetuously. 

"  He    is    a    good    sort  —  Townsend," 

[PJ] 


A  Vir-  went  on  Ralph,  reflectively.  "  I  've  an 
ginia  idea,  Evie,  that  if  you  and  he  could  have 
Cousin  managed  to  hit  it  off,  you  would  have 
suited  each  other  capitally.  He  would  be 
the  kind  likely  to  settle  down  into  a  coun- 
try gentleman,  too ;  and  you  would  never 
be  happy  in  town.  He  has  brains  and  a 
heart,  in  addition  to  his  good  looks  and 
manners,  and  a  restrained  force  of  charac- 
ter that  would  be  an  excellent  balance  for 
this  little  impulsive  lady,  whose  only  fault 
is  that  she  jumps  at  conclusions  instead  of 
working  to  them." 

u  You  are  perfectly  right  about  that, 
Ralph,"  she  said,  laughing  away  a  strong 
desire  to  cry.  "  I  am  learning  wisdom, 
however,  with  rapidly  advancing  years. 
And  you  do  only  justice  to  my  Cousin 
Vance,  in  your  estimate  of  him.  No 
doubt,"  here  she  swallowed  a  nervous 
catch  in  her  voice,  "  if  he  tcld  the  truth 
in  his  letter,  he  congratulated  you  upon 
being  allied  to  some  one  other  than  the 
young  person  who  made  his  visit  to  Vir- 
ginia last  year  a  very  hard  test  of  patience, 
to  say  no  more." 

She  stopped,  and  tried  to  turn  away  her 


head.      But  Ralph,  looking  her  gently  in    A  Vir- 
the  face,  read  there  what  gave  him  cour-   ginia 
age  to  launch  the  last  arrow  in  his  quiver.    Cousin 

"  Whatever  he  said,  I  saw  through  it, 
Evie  dear.  And  I —  I  could  not  wait  to 
write  an  answer.  I  telegraphed  my  ad- 
vice to  come  to  Naples  as  fast  as  steam 
can  carry  him." 

Shortly  after  her  conversation  upon  the 
quay  with  Ralph  ( who,  returning  to 
Rome,  had  been  duly  translated  into  an- 
ticipated bliss  ),  Eve  and  her  father  took 
advantage  of  a  perfect  Sunday  for  the  ex- 
cursion up  Mount  Vesuvius. 

In  a  landau  with  two  horses,  —  a  third 
to  be  annexed  on  the  ascent,  —  they  trav- 
ersed the  long  street  formed  by  the  vil- 
lages of  San  Giovanni,  La  Barra,  Portici, 
and  Resina,  stretching  from  the  parent 
city  —  a  street  suggesting  in  the  matter  of 
population  a  series  of  scattered  ant-hills. 
Such  a  merry,  dirty,  shameless  horde  of 
all  ages,  who,  abandoning  the  dens  they 
called  homes,  had  issued  forth  under  the 
sun  blazing  even  at  that  early  hour  of 
morning  in  his  vault  of  blue,  to  bivouac 


A  Vir-  in  the  open  highway,  was  never  seen  ! 
ginia  Marketing,  chaffering,  vending,  gossiping, 
Cousin  cooking,  eating,  drinking,  performing  the 
rites  of  religion  and  of  the  toilet,  the 
hum  of  their  voices  was  like  the  note  of 
some  giant  insect,  It  was  when  a  stran- 
ger's carriage  came  in  sight  that  the  air 
became  suddenly  vocal  with  shrill  cries 
for  alms ;  vehicles  and  horses  were  sur- 
rounded, escorted  by  noisy  beggars,  whose 
half-naked  children  offered  flowers,  or 
turned  somersaults  perilously  near  the 
wheels. 

Resina  passed,  they  could  breathe  more 
freely.  The  street  turmoil  was  succeeded 
by  the  peace  of  a  country  road  mounting 
between  lava  walls,  over  which  glimpses 
of  sea,  of  deep-red  clover  in  fields,  of  vine- 
yard or  lemon  grove,  were  finally  suc- 
ceeded by  glorious,  unobstructed  views  of 
the  mountains,  bay,  and  city.  In  the  re- 
gion of  recent  overflows,  they  saw  the 
most  curious  spectacle,  to  the  newcomer, 
of  fertile  garden-strips  of  green,  where 
clung  tiny  houses,  pink  or  whitewashed, 
daring  the  mute  monster  overhead,  while 
close  beside  them  the  mountain-side  was 


streaked  with  ominous  stains  marking  the    A  Vir- 
spots  where  other  homes  had  defied  him   ginia 
just  one  day  too  long.  Cousin 

Higher  still,  in  the  track  of  the  over- 
flow of  1872,  they  experienced  the  strik- 
ing effect  of  entering  into  a  valley  of  des- 
olation between  walls  of  living  green. 
Here,  the  lava  in  settling  had  wreathed  it- 
self into  the  forms  of  dragons  couchant,  of 
huge  serpents,  and  other  monstrous  shapes 
that  lay  entwined  as  if  asleep.  Up  above, 
arose  the  main  cone  of  the  crater,  smooth 
as  a  heap  of  gun-powder,  vast,  majestic, 
cloud-circled ;  taking  upon  itself  in  the 
intense  light  a  blooming  purple  tint;  the 
smoke  issuing  from  its  summit  now  soon 
melting  into  space,  now  showing  dense 
and  threatening. 

Evelyn,  in  whom  the  novelty  as  well  as 
beauty  of  the  scene  had  aroused  fresh  spirit, 
looked  more  like  her  old  self  than  her 
fond  father  had  seen  her  for  many  a  long 
day.  But  it  is  fortunately  not  given  to 
parents,  however  solicitous,  to  see  all  the 
workings  of  young  minds ;  and  the  good 
gentleman  would  have  been  indeed  sur- 
prised had  he  divined  the  mainspring  of 

[P7] 


A  Vir-   her  animation.     While  he  was  indulging 

ginia       in  a  few  mild  objections  to  the  length  and 

Cousin     slowness   of  the    drive,   the    rapacity   of 

wayside  beggars,  the  heat  of  the  sun,  etc., 

such  as  naturally  occur  to   the   traveller 

unsupported  by  sentimental  hopes,  to  our 

young  lady  the  condition  of  motion  was  a 

necessity,  and  the  act  of  getting  upward 

a  relief. 

For  the  plain  truth  was  that,  since  the 
last  talk  with  Ralph,  Evelyn  had  given 
rein  to  a  thousand  emotions  repressed, 
during  the  months  gone  by,  with  stern 
self-chiding. 

Until  now,  recalling  the  year  before 
when  Vance  had  left  her  to  an  unavailing 
sense  of  regret  for  her  harsh  judgment  of 
him,  she  had  hardly  realized  what  their 
intercourse  together  had  meant  to  her. 
But  the  period  of  his  visit  was,  in  fact, 
succeeded  by  one  in  which  her  salt  of  life 
had  lost  its  savor  ;  and  Evelyn,  to  her  dis- 
may, found  that  her  affections  had  gone 
from  her  keeping  to  this  man's,  acknowl- 
edged to  have  been  the  suitor  of  her 
friend. 

That    Katherine    had    refused    Vance, 


and    straightway    married    another    lover,    A  Vir- 
made  very  little  difference  to  one  of  Eve's   ginia 
rigid   creed   in   these    matters.      To    her,    Cousin 
love    declared    was     love    unchangeable  ; 
with  alF  her  heart  she  pitied  Vance  for  his 
disappointment,  and    blamed    herself   for 
having  repeatedly  wounded    him  without 
reason.      By  means  of  this  mode  of  argu- 
ment, she  had  naturally  succeeded  in  rais- 
ing Townsend  to  the  pedestal  of  a  mar- 
tyred hero,  which,  it  may  be  conceived  by 
those  of  colder  judgment,  did  not  lessen 
his  importance  in  the  girl's  imagination. 

As  the  months  had  gone  on,  and  she 
had  had  nothing  from  him  save  packages 
of  books  and  prints  sent  according  to  prom- 
ise, as  to  a  polite  entertainer  who  is  thus 
agreeably  disposed  of  by  the  beneficiary 
of  hospitality  extended,  her  feelings  had 
taken  on  the  complexion  of  hopeless  regret 
for  an  irrevocable  past.  What  Eve  had 
henceforth  to  do,  according  to  her  own 
strict  ordinance,  was  to  live  down  the  im- 
pulse that  made  her  give  her  heart  unasked. 
The  stress  of  these  emotions  had,  in  spite 
of  her  brave  efforts,  so  worked  upon  her 
health  that  the  Colonel,  as  fond  of  home 


A  Vir-  as  a  limpet  of  his  rock,  determined  to  try 
ginia  for  her  the  change  of  air  and  experience, 
Cousin  resulting  as  we  have  seen. 

And  now,  on  this  dazzling  day,  a  "  bri- 
dal of  earth  and  sky  "  in  one  of  the  love- 
liest spots  upon  earth,  she  kept  saying  to 
herself,  "  By  to-morrow  —  to-morrow,  at 
latest  —  he  will  be  with  me  !  And  then  — 
and  then  —  and  then —  !  " 

The  carriage  halted  at  a  little  wayside 
booth  for  the  sale  of  wines  and  fruit.  A 
dark-skinned  woman,  bearing  a  tray  of 
glasses,  with  flasks  of  the  delusive  Lachry- 
mae  Cbristi  (made  from  the  grapes  ripened 
upon  these  slopes)  came  forward  to  greet 
them.  On  Evelyn's  side,  a  hawker,  with 
shells  and  strings  of  coral,  and  coins  al- 
leged to  have  been  found  imbedded  in  the 
lava  near  at  hand,  importuned  her.  But, 
rejecting  the  others,  she  beckoned  to  a 
pretty,  bare-legged  boy  carrying  oranges 
garnished  in  their  own  glossy,  dark-green 
leaves;  and  so  busy  was  she  in  selecting 
the  best  of  his  refreshing  fruit,  she  hardly 
observed  that  another  claimant  for  her 
attention  had  appeared  close  beside  the 
wheel. 

[700] 


"  Please  go  away,  my  good  man,"  she    A  Vir- 
said  at  last,  laughingly,  without  giving  him    ginia 
a  glance.     "  Indeed,  I  want  nothing  you    Cousin 
can  supply." 

"  That  is  a  harsh  assertion,"  Vance  said, 
in  a  low  tone  meant  for  her  ear,  and  then 
proceeded  to  greet  both  his  cousins  out- 
spokenly. 

He  had  reached  Naples  early  that  morn- 
ing ;  had  ascertained  at  their  hotel  that  they 
were  engaged  to  start  for  Vesuvius  at  a 
given  hour  ;  fearing  collision  with  a  party 
of  strangers,  had  set  out  alone  to  walk  up 
the  mountain  and  take  his  chance  of  inter- 
cepting them  ;  and  had  waited  here  for 
the  purpose. 

"  After  you  had  been  journeying  all 
night  ?  "  said  the  Colonel,  with  unfeigned 
surprise.  "  Why,  my  dear  fellow,  in  your 
place  I  should  have  —  " 

Just  then  he  intercepted,  passing  be- 
tween Evelyn  and  Vance,  a  look  that 
startled  him.  That  his  sentence  remained 
unfinished  nobody  observed.  The  Colo- 
nel drew  back  into  his  corner,  as  if  he  had 
been  shot. 

If  she  had  divined  her  father's  feeling, 

[707] 


A  Vir-   Eve  could  not  have  pitied  any  one  who 
ginia      was  gaining  Vance.     And  Vance,  at  that 
Cousin     moment,  believed  all  the  world  to  be  as 
happy  as  himself! 

To  a  love-affair  so  obvious,  the  ending 
naturally  to  be  expected  is  of  the  old- 
fashioned  and  inevitable  sort.  In  the 
beautiful  Indian  summer  of  the  following 
autumn  in  Virginia,  these  two  people  were 
duly  married  at  the  Hall.  From  far  and 
wide  came  relatives  to  wish  them  joy ;  it 
was  like  the  gathering  of  a  Scotch  clan  at 
the  summons  of  the  pipes.  Prominent 
among  the  revellers  at  the  dance  following 
the  nuptial  ceremony  was  Cousin  Josey, 
who,  in  a  pair  of  antiquated  leather  pumps 
with  buckles,  led  down  the  middle  of  a 
reel  with  his  cherished  "  Lady-love."  To 
please  the  old  boy,  Evelyn  had  worn  the 
little  string  of  pearls  bought  by  him,  years 
before,  for  a  bride  who  was  never  to  be. 
And  so  everybody  was  content,  and  one 
of  the  cousins  said  it  was  "exactly  like  a 
weddin'  befo'  the  wah." 


Out  of  Season 


Chapter    I 

;  no  house-parties  till  the  mid-  Out  of 
die  of  July.  Dear  knows,  what  Season 
with  a  string  of  big  dinners,  my  two  little 
dances,  and  those  tiresome  Thursdays  in 
January  and  February  when  everybody 
came,  I  have  done  all  that  could  be  ex- 
pected by  society  from  paupers  like  our- 
selves," said  Mrs.  Henry  Gervase,  settling 
herself  in  a  wicker  chair,  on  the  veranda 
of  her  country  home,  and  looking  approv- 
ingly at  her  water-view. 

"  Paupers  !  "  said  a  lady  from  a  neigh- 
boring cottage,  who  had  dropped  in  to  call. 
Mrs.  Gervase's  friends  rarely  liked  to  com- 
mit themselves  to  positive  comment  upon 
her  statements  until  certain  which  way  the 
cat  was  meant  to  jump.  Mrs.  Luther 
Prettyman,  the  wife  of  the  dry-goods  mag- 
nate, whose  good  fortune  it  was  to  own 
the  land  adjoining  the  Gervase  property  at 
Sheepshead  Point,  —  a  recently  famous  re- 
sort for  summer  visitors  on  our  far  eastern 


Out  of  coast,  —  now    contented    herself  with    a 
Season    little  deprecatory  giggle  that  might  mean 
anything,  and  waited  for  Mrs.  Gervase  to 
go  on. 

"  Oh,  well !  everything  is  comparative ; 
and  on  the  scale  by  which  people  measure 
things  in  New  York,  to-day,  we  are  sim- 
ply grovelling  in  poverty.  John,"  —  to 
her  gardener, —  "  you  have  got  that  row 
of  myosotis  entirely  out  of  line ;  and,  re- 
member, nothing  but  salvia  behind  the 
heliotropes.  I  like  a  blaze  of  scarlet  and 
purple  against  a  blue  sea-line  like  this. 
Heavens  !  what  a  perfect  afternoon  !  The 
atmosphere  has  been  clarified,  and  those 
birches  in  the  ravine  c  twinkle  with  a  mil- 
lion lights.'  My  dear  woman,  I  make  no 
apologies.  Any  one  who  wants  me  at  this 
season  of  the  year  must  take  me  as  I  am. 
After  eight  months  of  bricks  and  mortar, 
dirty  streets,  and  stupid  drives  in  the  Park, 
I  am  fairly  maudlin  over  Nature  when  I 
get  her  back  in  June. 

"  I  went  to  a  concert  where  Paderewski 

played    a    night    or    two    before    he    left 

America ;   and  I  give  you  my  word  that 

while  the  music  was  going  on  I  put  up  my 

[106] 


fan  and  plainly  heard  the  babble  of  this  Out  of 
little  brook  of  mine,  and  the  lap  of  the  Season 
waves  over  the  rocks  at  high  tide,  with, 
now  and  then,  the  notes  of  the  song- 
sparrow  that  comes  back  every  year  and 
perches  on  my  Norway  pine.  Somebody 
said  of  me  afterwards,  at  supper,  that  I 
had  been  having  a  little  nap.  They  may 
say  anything  of  me,  I  believe,  and  some 
idiot  will  be  found  to  credit  it.  But  please 
don't  accept  the  newspaper  report  that  I 
am  to  have  Mr.  and  Mrs.  This,  or  Mr. 
That  and  Mrs.  T'  other,  stopping  with  me 
at  Stoneacres  during  June.  I  am  much 
too  busy  with  my  granger-work,  and  my 
husband  too  industrious  doing  nothing,  to 
play  host  and  hostess  now." 

"  I  did  not  know;  I  only  thought  —  " 
ventured  Mrs.  Prettyman.  "  You  see, 
everything  is  so  dull  here,  socially,  till 
August.  And  when  one  has  a  guest  com- 
ing who  is  accustomed  to  a  great  deal  of 
fashionable  gaiety,  —  a  young  lady,  a  dis- 
tinguished belle,  —  one  naturally  grasps  at 
the  idea  of  such  pleasant  house-parties  as 
yours  are  known  to  be,  dear  Mrs.  Ger- 
vase." 

[707] 


Out  of  "  We  shall  be  dull  as  ditch-water,"  an- 
Season  swered  relentless  Mrs.  Gervase,  turning 
around  to  survey  the  struggle  of  a  fat- 
breasted  robin  to  extract  from  the  turf  a 
worm  that  continued  to  emerge  in  appar- 
ently unending  length.  "  And  if  you  will 
have  a  girl  out  of  season,  why,  put  her  on 
bread  and  milk  and  beauty-sleep,  give  her 
plenty  of  trashy  novels  and  a  horse  to  ride, 
and  she  '11  do  well  enough." 

"But  —  perhaps  I  am  wrong — surely 
Mr.  Gervase  told  Mr.  Prettyman,  when 
they  were  smoking  on  our  veranda  last 
Sunday,  that  you  are  expecting  your 
nephew,  Mr.  Alan  Grove." 

"That 's  just  like  Mr.  Gervase, — a  per- 
fect sieve  for  secrets,"  quoth  Mrs.  Ger- 
vase, contemptuously;  "when  I  particularly 
requested  him  to  mention  Alan's  visit  to 
nobody.  The  poor  boy  is  completely  used 
up  with  work,  and  has  engaged  to  get  a 
paper  ready  to  read  before  some  scientific 
congress  next  month,  and  finds  himself 
unable  to  write  a  line  of  it  in  town.  Here, 
I  have  promised  him,  he  may  have  abso- 
lute quiet —  not  be  called  on  to  play  civil- 
ity or  squire-of-dames  for  any  one  ;  and,  I 

[«*] 


may  as  well  warn  you  now,  he  's  not  to  be    Out  of 
expected  to  do  a  hand^s  turn  of  entertain-   Season 
ment  for  your  girl.      Besides,  I  happen  to 
know  that  he  can't  abide  c  society  '  young 
women.      He  is  plunged  up  to  the  neck  in 
electricity,  is  poor,  ambitious,  clever,  on 
the  way  to  sure  success  ;  and   I  'm  going 
to  back  him  all  I  can,  not  put  stumbling- 
blocks  in  his  path." 

"  How  plunged  up  to  his  neck  in  elec- 
tricity ?  "  asked  puzzled  Mrs.  Prettyman. 

11  Electric  law,  my  good  soul ;  did  you 
think  it  a  new  kind  of  capital  punishment  ? 
The  lucrative  law  of  the  future,  I  've  heard 
wise  men  say.  Simpkins  !  "  hailing,  with 
irresistible  command,  a  butcher's  cart  that 
seemed  possessed  of  a  strong  desire  to 
drive  away  in  a  hurry  from  a  side  entrance 
to  the  house.  "  Simpkins !  Oh  !  there  you 
are  ;  I  meant  to  leave  orders  with  the  cook 
not  to  let  you  get  away  again  to-day  with- 
out a  word  from  me.  I  noticed,  on  the 
book,  that  you  had  the  effrontery  to  charge 
sixty  cents  a  pound  for  spring  chickens 
here  in  June.  Now,  don't  tell  me  !  The 
way  all  you  natives  do ;  you  have  a  short 
season,  and  must  make  the  most  of  it. 
[/op] 


Out  of  This  is  not  your  season,  or  my  season, 
Season  either.  Wait  till  August  before  you  put 
on  the  screws.  And  your  sweetbreads, 
eighty  cents  a  pair,  when  you  know  that 
when  Mr.  Gervase  and  I  first  came  here 
to  live,  you  were  throwing  sweetbreads  away, 
till  we  taught  you  the  use  of  them  !  Now, 
mind,  I  shall  get  tired  of  sending  friends 
to  you  to  be  fleeced  in  August,  if  this  is 
what  you  do  to  me  in  June." 

"  I  must  be  running  off,"  said  Mrs. 
Prettyman,  arising  from  her  spot  of  shade 
and  luxurious  comfort  in  the  deep  ve- 
randa filled,  though  not  encumbered,  with 
picturesque  belongings,  with  stands  and 
pots  of  blooming  plants  in  every  nook. 
"  I  '11  declare,  nobody's  flowers  do  as  well 
as  yours.  And  the  wages  we  pay  our  head 
gardener  !  It  makes  me  really  envious." 
This,  be  it  known,  was  a  clever  stroke 
on  the  part  of  neighbor  Prettyman.  Se- 
cretly resentful  of  the  tepid  interest  in  the 
personality  of  her  expected  guest,  —  who, 
in  the  eyes  of  the  house  of  Prettyman,  was 
an  event,  —  she  yet  did  not  dare  attempt 
to  bring  the  greater  lady  to  yield  sympathy 
upon  the  spot.  Mrs.  Gervase's  weakest 
[770] 


side  was  for  her  flowers.     She  possessed    Out  of 
the  magic  touch  that  alone  nurtures  them   Season 
to  perfection,  and  with  it  the  proud  love 
of  a  parent  for  children  that  grow  inclined 
according  to  her  will. 

"  Hum  !  We  do  pretty  well,  considering 
this  house  is  built  on  the  ragged  edge  of 
nothing  over  the  sea,  and  is  swept  by  all 
the  winds  of  heaven,  in  turn,  and  some- 
times all  together.  And,  in  a  climate 
where  one  goes  to  bed  in  the  Tropics  and 
wakes  up  at  the  North  Pole,  what  would 
you  have  ?  John,  there,  though  I  '11  not 
set  him  up  by  telling  him  so,  has  learned 
all  I  know  about  flowers,  and  picks  up 
new  ideas  every  day.  By  August,  now, 
these  beds  and  stands  will  be  worth  look- 
ing at.  What  did  you  say  is  the  name  of 
the  young  person  who  's  coming  to  stop 
with  you  ?  If  you  've  nothing  better,  sup- 
pose you  and  she  and  Mr.  Prettyman  come 
over  to  dinner  Saturday.  Alan  has  prom- 
ised me  not  to  work  at  night,  and  by  that 
time  my  plants  will  all  be  in  the  ground 
and  my  mind  at  rest." 

"  Thank  you  so  much,"  said  the  lesser 
luminary.  "  It  is  always  a  treat  to  dine 


Out  of  with  you  en  famille ;  and  it  is  —  did  n't  I 
Season  mention  her  ?  —  Gladys  Eliot  who  is  com- 
ing to  us  to-morrow." 

"  Gladys  Eliot !  Why,  she 's  gone  with 
her  people  to  London  for  two  months.  I 
saw  her  name  in  the  Teutonic's  list  last 
Thursday.  Those  Eliots  would  never  in 
the  world  let  slip  another  chance  for  her 
to  make  the  great  match  they  've  set  out 
to  get." 

u  Nevertheless,"  said  Mrs.  Prettyman, 
with  some  show  of  spirit,  "  Mrs.  Eliot, 
who  is  my  old  school-friend,  wrote  me,  the 
day  before  they  sailed,  that  Gladys  had 
taken  it  into  her  head  to  stay  behind,  and 
begged  me  to  keep  her  till  her  aunt  can 
come  up  from  Baltimore  in  July  and  take 
the  girl  in  charge." 

"  Three  weeks  of  Gladys  Eliot  !  "  re- 
marked Mrs.  Gervase.  "  My  poor  woman, 
I  pity  you.  By  the  end  of  the  month 
there  will  be  no  health  in  you.  A  pro- 
fessional beauty,  who  has  run  the  gauntlet 
of  four  or  five  years  of  incessant  praises, 
has  been  advertised  like  c  Pear's  Soap,'  in 
England  and  America,  and  has  failed  to 
make  her  coup  !  I  remember  what  Alan 


Grove  said  about  her  no  longer  ago  than  Out  of 
Christmas  of  last  year :  * 1  have  n't  the  Season 
advantage  of  Miss  Eliot's  acquaintance, 
but  her  and  her  kind  I  hold  in  abhorrence, 
—  denationalized  Americans  ;  hangers-on 
of  older  civilizations  that  make  a  puppet- 
show  of  them ;  spoiled  for  home,  with 
no  rightful  place  abroad  ;  restless,  craving 
what  no  healthy-minded  husband  of  their 
own  kind  can  give  them.'  Bless  me  — 
and  those  two  are  going  to  meet  here  !  " 

"  I  think  Mr.  Alan  Grove  need  not 
concern  himself,"  said  Mrs.  Prettyman, 
driven  to  bay.  "  Mrs.  Eliot  mentioned  in 
her  letter  that  Gladys  —  it  is  no  secret, 
evidently  —  is  nearly,  if  not  quite,  en- 
gaged to  marry  some  one  the  family  feels 
is  in  all  respects  all  they  could  have  hoped 
for  her." 

u  Then  it  must  be  either  that  Colonel 
Larkyns,  the  very  rude  man  with  large 
feet,  who  walked  all  over  my  velvet  gown 
at  the  Egertons',  last  winter,  —  came  over 
with  Lord  Glenmore,  whom  the  Eliots 
tried  for  and  could  n't  get,  —  or  else  Mc- 
Laughlin,  the  Irishman  who  made  such  a 
lot  of  money  in  Montana.  The  two  men 


Out  of  were  running  evenly,  't  was  said.  Let  me 
Season  think  —  did  n't  I  see  her  at  Claremont  on 
McLaughlin's  coach,  last  month  ?  Pray, 
my  dear,  are  we  to  congratulate  you  on 
having  Mr.  McLaughlin,  also,  as  a  mem- 
ber of  your  household,  before  long  ?  " 

"  Oh  dear,  dear  !  "  continued  the  plain- 
spoken  lady  to  herself,  when  poor  Mrs. 
Prettyman,  fairly  routed,  had  retired  with- 
out honors  from  the  field.  "  Why  is 
nature  so  heavenly  kind  to  us  in  American 
places  of  resort,  and  l  only  man  is  vile  '  ? 
Why  does  this  struggle  for  place,  this 
pride  of  vogue,  these  types  of  our  worst 
social  element  —  I  hate  that  word  l  social,' 
it  sounds  vulgar;  but  what  else  expresses 
this  for  me  ?  —  follow  one  into  this  earthly 
Paradise  ?  Here  I  have  got  myself  into 
a  pretty  kettle  of  fish  with  Alan  Grove. 
He  will  be  bored  to  death  and  his  visit 
broken  up,  for  we  can't  rid  ourselves 
of  people  who  sit  in  our  pocket,  like 
the  Prettymans  in  summer ;  and  he  will 
be  running  upon  this  Eliot  creature  per- 
petually. If  Henry  would  help  me,  we 
might  —  but  he  is  so  abominably  friendly 
and  cordial  with  country  neighbors,  there 's 


no  hope  from   him.      Besides,  if  a  girl  is    Out  of 
pretty,  it  makes  no  earthly  difference  to   Season 
my  good  man  whether  she  is  a  fiend  of 
calculation    and   cold-heartedness.      I  de- 
clare, I  've  no  patience  with  Henry,  any- 
how." 

So  saying,  Mrs.  Gervase  went  out  to 
drive  with  the  offender  in  question,  behind 
a  pair  of  sleek  cobs,  in  a  little  buckboard 
of  tawny  wood  with  russet  leather  cush- 
ions and  harness,  —  his  latest  present, — 
and  soon,  in  cheerful  companionship,  for- 
got all  sorrows  amid  such  views  of  land 
and  water  as  Sheepshead  Point  people 
think  only  Sheepshead  Point  can  offer. 


Chapter    II 

Out  of  *  I  VO  reach  Sheepshead  Point,  a  boat 
Season  A  steams  daily,  and  several  times  a  day, 
from  a  station  on  the  line  of  a  great  railway 
skirting  the  eastern  Atlantic  coast.  Issu- 
ing from  a  drawing-room  car  there,  a  young 
woman,  dressed  in  a  tight-fitting  skirt  and 
jacket  of  sailor  blue,  with  a  loose  shirt  of 
red  silk  belted  around  a  taper  waist,  her 
small  head  with  its  sailor-hat  half  shrouded 
from  view  in  a  blue  tissue  veil,  walked 
lightly  ahead  of  Mr.  Alan  Grove  and, 
attended  by  an  elderly  maid,  went  far  for- 
ward to  stand  in  the  bows  of  the  boat. 

Grove,  struck  by  the  grace  and  dis- 
tinction of  her  carriage,  looked  again,  and 
then  was  conscious  of  an  actual  fierce 
jump  of  the  heart. 

"  Can  there  be  two  of  them  ? "  he 
asked  of  his  inner  man.  "  Doctors  tell 
you  if  you  keep  your  body  in  good  order, 
and  your  mind  healthily  at  work,  you  will 
never  see  a  ghost  —  and  yet  —  that 's  the 


double   of  the   woman   who   sailed   away    Out  if 
from  me  last  Thursday  j    who's  haunted    Season 
me  during  the  six  madly  misspent  weeks 
since  I  had  the  misfortune  to  be  told  off 
to  take  her  in  to  dinner.    Oh  !  no,  it  is  n't. 
Yes,  it  is  —  by  Jove,  it  is  Gladys  Eliot." 

He  was  never  so  astonished.  Believ- 
ing her  to  be  at  that  moment  on  the  ocean, 
nearing  British  shores,  Grove  was  fairly 
staggered  when  Miss  Eliot,  turning,  espied 
him  and,  by  a  graciously  easy  nod,  sum- 
moned him  to  her  side.  Considering  the 
manner  of  their  parting  a  few  weeks  back, 
he  wondered  at  himself  for  the  immediate 
abjectness  of  his  obedience. 

It  was  a  favorite  phrase  of  Gladys 
Eliot's  admirers  to  describe  her  as  having 
a  "  Duchess  of  Leinster  head  and  throat." 
Nature  had  certainly  bestowed  upon  this 
daughter  of  nobody  in  particular  in  the 
Western  Hemisphere  a  pose  of  a  proud 
little  head  upon  broad,  sloping  shoulders, 
as  fine  as  that  much-photographed  great 
lady's.  She  had,  in  addition,  a  pair  of 
innocent,  Irish-blue  eyes  and  a  guileless 
smile ;  a  voice,  in  speaking,  that  was  sweet 
and  low  ;  and  the  best  or  worst  manners  in 

["7] 


Out  of  the  world,  so  critics  said,  according  to  the 
Season  desirableness  of  her  interlocutor. 

"  Mr.  Grove  !  How  perfectly  extraor- 
dinary that  you  should  be  here,"  she 
exclaimed,  giving  him  the  tips  of  her 
well-gloved  fingers,  while  the  maid  and 
dressing-bag  withdrew  discreetly  into  the 
background. 

"  Did  you  expect  me  to  remain  forever 
on  the  steps  of  the  Claremont  tea-house, 
like  a  monument  of  a  city  father,  to  adorn 
the  suburbs  of  New  York  ?  " 

"  You  are  so  quick-tempered,  so  unrea- 
sonable !  How  should  I  know  you  were 
going  to  take  such  dire  offence  ?  But 
please  —  I  can't  quarrel  away  off  here, 
or  even  justify  myself.  If  you  are  going 
to  remain  furious  with  me,  at  least  gratify 
my  curiosity  first,  and  tell  me  how  you 
came  on  this  boat,  and  where  you  are 
going.  Then,  if  you  are  so  inclined,  you 
may  retire  into  your  shell  and  sulk." 

A  soft  light  was  shining  in  her  eye. 
Her  voice  was  pleading ;  her  face,  most 
beautiful.  Grove,  promising  himself,  in 
street  vernacular,  to  "  go  off  and  kick  him- 
self" directly  afterwards,  took  his  place 


at    her   elbow  and   gazed   down  hungrily    Out  of 
upon  her  artless,  changeful  countenance.      Season 

"  Rather  tell  me  why  you  are  not  about 
to  plant  your  triumphant  banner  on  Brit- 
ish shores  once  more.  I  read  your  name 
in  the  list  of  those  sailing.  The  news- 
papers have  given  all  of  your  summer  plans 
in  detail,  all  the  country-houses  that  are  to 
receive  you,  all  the  aristocrats  that  are  to 
send  invitations  to  dinner,  to  meet  your 
ship  at  Queenstown." 

She  colored  slightly.  "  As  usual,  you 
are  making  fun  of  me.  What  would  be 
the  use,  since  you  won't  believe  me,  of 
telling  you  my  actual  reason  for  backing 
out  of  this  English  visit,  and  letting  my 
mother  and  sister  go  without  me  ?  No,  I 
shan't  flatter  you  by  showing  my  real  self." 

"  I  have  seen  enough  of  your  real  self, 
thank  you.  I  believe  I  prefer  the  unreal, 
the  imaginary  woman  I  suffered  myself  to 
fancy  you  to  be  for  a  brief  space  after  our 
acquaintance  began." 

"  Now  you  are  rude,"  she  began,  her 
voice  faltering  ever  so  little,  but  enough 
to  shake  his  equilibrium.  He  made  a 
movement  towards  her ;  and  she  looked 


Out  of  him  in  the  face,  trying  to  keep  down  the 
Season  tingle  of  satisfaction  in  her  veins.  For 
Gladys's  experience  of  men  had  taught 
her  to  recognize  in  a  certain  phase  of  in- 
civility the  existence  of  passion  unsubdued. 
It  is  only  indifference  in  his  sex  that  can 
maintain  an  armor  of  polite  self-control 
towards  hers. 

Grove  caught  the  transient  gleam  in  her 
eye,  and  read  it  aright.  Immediately  he 
was  on  the  defensive,  and  his  manner 
froze. 

"  I  believe  you  know  my  aunt,  Mrs. 
Gervase,  in  town,"  he  said.  "  I  think  I 
saw  you  at  one  of  her  dances,  in  January." 

"  Mrs.  Gervase  is  the  dearest  thing," 
interrupted  Miss  Eliot,  conscious  of  blank- 
ness  in  her  tone. 

"  She  may  be,  but  it  would  be  a  brave 
person  who  would  tell  her  so.  She  is  a 
delightful,  but  autocratic,  personage  ;  and 
one  of  the  treats  of  the  year  for  me  is  to 
get  away  to  her  and  my  uncle  for  a  holi- 
day, when  they  have  no  one  else.  This 
is  one  of  those  rare  occasions.  The  cot- 
tage people  who  have  come  down  to 
Sheepshead  have  a  tacit  agreement  to  keep 

[-I20] 


to  themselves,  just  now.  They  are  sup-  Out  of 
posed  to  be  getting  their  houses  to  rights,  Season 
and  making  gardens,  and  what  not.  Mrs. 
Gervase  says  they  are  really  wearing  out 
the  past  season's  gloves,  and  putting  tonics 
on  their  hair,  and  trying  new  cures  and 
doses,  for  which  there  was  no  time  before 
leaving  town.  The  days  will  pass  in  do- 
ing as  we  please,  and  in  the  evening  we 
shall  dine  well  (for  the  Gervases  have  a 
corker  of  a  cook),  after  which  my  aunt 
and  uncle  and  I  will  take  each  a  book  and 
a  lamp  into  some  nook  of  the  library,  and 
read  till  bedtime.  You  can't  imagine  a 
life  more  to  my  taste." 

"  Prohibitory  to  outsiders,  at  least,"  said 
Gladys.  "  This  is,  as  I  suppose  you  mean 
it  to  be,  awfully  alarming  to  me  ;  for  I 
have  n't  told  you  that  I  am  for  three  weeks 
to  be  Mrs.  Gervase's  nearest  neighbor.  I 
am  going  to  visit  an  old  friend  of  my  moth- 
er's,—  Mrs.  Luther  Prettyman." 

Grove  experienced  a  sensation  of  dis- 
may. The  Prettymans  !  Chateau  Cali- 
cot,  as  he  had  dubbed  their  new  florid 
"  villa,"  built  on  the  shore  in  objectionable 
proximity  to  his  uncle's  house,  some  three 


Out  of  years  back  !  He  remembered  the  vines 
Season  planted,  the  shrubs  set  out,  the  rattan 
screens  hung,  the  final  adjustment  of  chairs 
by  Mrs.  Gervase,  in  the  attempt  to  shut 
out  every  glimpse  of  the  Prettyman  belong- 
ings from  their  place  of  daily  rendezvous 
on  the  veranda  at  Stoneacres  ;  his  uncle's 
sly  amusement  when  the  cupola  of  the 
Prettyman  stables,  and  the  roof  of  a  de- 
testable little  sugar-temple  tea-house  were 
projected  on  their  line  of  vision,  spite  of 
all.  Mrs.  Gervase  could  not  forgive  her- 
self for  not  having  secured  that  point  of 
land  when  land  was  so  ridiculously  cheap. 
On  an  average  of  once  a  day,  she  reminded 
her  husband  that  she  had  begged  him  to 
do  so,  and  he  had  put  it  off  until  too  late. 
Mrs.  Prettyman,  unvisited  by  Mrs.  Ger- 
vase for  many  months  after  the  red-brown 
gables  of  her  costly  dwelling  rose  into 
prominence  at  Sheepshead  Point,  had  grad- 
ually found  her  way  into  quasi-intimacy  at 
Stoneacres.  Mrs.  Gervase,  protesting  that 
her  neighbor  was  commonplace,  vacuous, 
a  being  from  whom  one  could  derive  noth- 
ing more  profitable  than  the  address  of  a 
place  in  town  to  have  one's  lace  lamp- 


shades  made  a  dollar  cheaper  than  else-    Out  of 
where,  allowed  herself,  in  time,  to  take  a   Season 
mild  but  perceptible  interest  in  Prettyman 
affairs.     Through  force  of  habit,  she  had 
grown  accustomed  to  survey  the  Pretty- 
man lodge-gates,  in  driving,  without  re- 
marking upon  "  the    absurdity  of  gilded 
finials  to  iron  railings,  at  a  rough,  seaside 
place  like  this."     Nay,  the  noses  of  the 
Gervase  cobs  were  now  not  infrequently 
turned   in  through   these  gilded    railings. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gervase  dined  periodically 
with   the   Prettymans.     The   Prettymans 
repaired   more    frequently    to   Stoneacres. 
Mrs.  Prettyman  made  capital,  in  town,  of 
her  friendship  with  "  dear  Mrs.  Gervase." 
This,  Grove,  like  the  rest  of  the  world, 
had  come  gradually  to  know  and  accept. 
But  it  grated  on   him  to   hear   that   the 
woman  who,  so  far,  had  furnished  his  life 
its  chief  feminine  influence  should  be  as- 
sociated in  this  way  with  the  mistress  of 
Chateau  Calicot.      It  belittled  his  one  pas- 
sion—  now  put  away  as  dead,  but  still  his 
own.      This,    indeed,    set    the    crowning 
touch  upon  his  misfortune  of  meeting  her 
again. 


Chapter  III 

Out  of  "  TV^Y  dear  boy,  you  might  have 
Season  J.VJ.  knocked  me  down  with  a  feather," 
said  Mrs.  Gervase,  upon  capturing  her 
nephew  at  the  wharf  and  driving  away 
with  him.  "  Tell  me  at  once  what  you 
mean  by  knowing  Gladys  Eliot,  and  arriv- 
ing with  her  in  that  intimate  sort  of  way, 
just  as  I  had,  with  infinite  trouble,  suc- 
ceeded in  bluffing  the  Prettymans  with  a 
mere  dinner  on  Saturday  !  Now  you  will 
be  having  to  call.  Ton,  of  all  people,  hit- 
ting it  off  with  Gladys  Eliot !  " 

"  Give  yourself  no  concern,"  put  in 
Mr.  Gervase,  who  was  driving,  looking 
back  over  his  shoulder  with  a  beaming 
smile ;  "  I  offer  to  throw  myself  into  the 
breach.  A  woman  as  beautiful,  as  tall,  as 
placid,  as  Miss  Eliot  commands  the  best 
homage  of  my  heart.  I  forewarn  you 
that  I  am  going  desperately  into  this  af- 
fair. Such  luck  never  came  my  way  be- 
fore." 


44  Stop  at  the  confectioner's  for  the  Out  of 
macaroons,  Henry,"  said  his  wife,  ignoring  Season 
transports.  "  Alan,  you  are  looking 
wretched.  When  I  think  of  those  ruddy, 
brown  cheeks,  and  the  look  of  vigor  you 
brought  out  of  your  college  athletics  a  few- 
years  back,  I  'm  inclined  to  renounce  mind 
and  go  in  for  muscle  exclusively.  Oh, 
that  wretched  grind  of  life  in  New  York 
that  crushes  the  youth  and  spirit  out  of 
you  poor  boys  that  have  to  toil  for  a  liv- 
ing !  Surely,  it  is  n't  only  law  that 's 
worked  such  havoc  in  those  pale,  thin 
cheeks  —  " 

"  My  dear  Agatha,  your  sympathy 
would  put  a  well  man  in  his  bed,"  said 
Mr.  Gervase,  whose  keen  eyes  took  in 
more  of  the  actual  situation  than  did  his 
wife's. 

"Oh  well! — stop  here,  please;  no, 
I  won't  get  down,  Jonas  sees  me ;  he 
will  be  out  directly,  with  the  parcel  —  you 
must  see,  Henry,  that  Alan  has  changed, 
even  since —  " 

"  Alan,  let  me  tell  you  of  a  bill  our 
friend  Jonas,  here,  who  is  a  bit  of  a  horse- 
jockey,  as  well  as  local  confectioner  and 


Out  of  pastry-cook,  sent  in  recently  to  your  aunt. 
Season     He  had  been  selling  her  a  mate  to   her 
chestnut,  and  the  account  ran  this  way  : 

"  'MRS.  H.  GERVASE  TO  I.  JONAS,  DR. 
I  Ib.  lady-fingers  .  .  $  0.30 
One  horse  .  .  .  250.00 

y%  Ib.  cream  peppermints      .  0.20 


Total,      #250. 50  '  ' 

Grove  was  glad  to  cover  his  various  dis- 
comforts with  a  laugh.  But  he  did  not 
find  it  easy  to  elude  the  vigilance  of  Mrs. 
Gervase,  who  bided  her  time  until  an  op- 
portunity presented  itself  for  an  uninter- 
rupted talk  with  him. 

"  Stretch  yourself  out  on  that  bamboo 
couch,  and  let  me  put  the  pillows  in,"  she 
said,  when  they  two  adjourned  to  the  ve- 
randa, in  the  twilight  after  dinner.  "  It 
is  such  fun  to  have  a  boy  to  cosset  once 
more,  with  my  own  lads  at  college,  and 
three  weeks  to  wait  before  I  can  get  Tom 
and  Louis  back  from  New  London  after 
the  boat-race." 

"  You  have  such  an  inspired  faculty 
for  making  men  comfortable,"  Grove 

["*] 


remarked,  from    the    depths    of   his  bien-    Out  of 
etre.  Season 

"  Custom,  I  suppose.  An  only  daugh- 
ter, with  a  father  and  three  brothers  to 
wait  upon  till  I  married,  and  a  husband 
and  two  sons  to  impose  on  me  since.  I 
should  not  know  how  to  handle  girls.  I 
like  them,  of  course,  —  find  them  all  very 
well  in  their  way,  —  but  they  bother  me. 
Perhaps  it  is  that  there  are  no  old-fash- 
ioned girls  any  more  —  no  young  ones, 
certainly.  They  come  into  the  world  like 
Minerva  from  Jove's  brain.  They  are  so 
learned,  or  clever,  or  worldly-wise,  read 
everything,  see  everything,  hear  every- 
thing discussed,  have  no  illusions  —  but, 
there,  I  can't  explain  my  preference. 
Men  are  captious,  obstinate,  whimsical,  by 
turns  ;  disappoint  one  continually  in  little 
things  —  but  in  the  main  they  are  so 
broad  and  big;  scatter  nonsense  into  thin 
air  ;  are  so  loyal  and  unswerving  to  their 
beliefs;  know  where  they  stand,  and,  hav- 
ing made  up  their  minds  to  action,  do  not 
change." 

"  In  short,"  remarked  Grove,  "  you  are 


Out  of  like  the  little  servant-maid  in  Cranford, 
Season  when  they  told  her  to  hand  the  potatoes 
to  the  ladies  first.  1 1  '11  do  as  you  bid  me, 
ma'am,  but  I  like  the  lads  best.'  My 
dearest  auntie,  there  must  be  guardian  an- 
gels specially  appointed  to  look  after  our 
sex,  and  you  are  one  of  them.  This  is 
the  age  and  America  is  the  field  for  the 
unchecked  efflorescence  of  young  woman- 
kind. But  when  the  conversation  takes 
on  this  complexion,  I  feel  it  to  be  unfair 
not  to  allow  the  defendant  the  assistance 
of  counsel ;  though,  even  if  Uncle  Henry 
were  here,  I  am  sure  we  should  both  be 
demolished  speedily." 

"  Never  mind  Henry,"  said  that  gentle- 
man's representative.  "  He  has  got  a  new 
letter  from  a  man  in  London  whom  he 
keeps  for  the  purpose  of  making  him  mis- 
erable with  catalogues  of  sales  of  books 
and  papers  he  can't  afford  to  buy.  But 
he  potters  over  them,  and  marks  the  lists, 
and  writes  back  to  the  man  in  London, 
and,  as  you  know,  we  do  manage  to  be- 
come possessed  of  much  more  dear  an- 
tiquity than  the  house  will  hold  or  our  in- 
come warrant.  This  time,  he  is  buried 


alive  for  an  hour  to  come,  for  it  is  about    Out  of 
a  sale  of  Sir  Philip  Francis's  letters  and   Season 
manuscripts  at  Sotheby's  very  soon." 

"  I  don't  believe  the  real  l  Junius  '  an- 
nouncing himself  would  get  me  out  of 
this  bamboo  chair  and  away  from  this 
deepening  of  eventide  upon  the  sea  and 
islands,  the  afterglow  of  sunset  melting 
into  moonlight,  the  soft  caressing  of  the 
salt  air  blending  with  those  hidden  helio- 
tropes of  yours  !  Now,  dear  lady,  let 's  go 
back  to  the  concrete.  I  knew,  the  mo- 
ment your  eagle  eye  fell  on  me  this  after- 
noon, you  would  find  out  all  that  in  me  is. 
For  so  many  years  I  've  been  telling  you 
my  scrapes,  I  may  as  well  out  with  the 
latest  and  biggest  of  them.  Two  months 
ago,  I  took  Gladys  Eliot  in  to  dinner  at  the 
Sargents'.  I  kept  it  from  you  in  town, 
for  which  you  '11  say  I  am  properly  pun- 
ished. I  fell  in  love  with  her,  like  a 
schoolboy  with  green  apples,  heeding  not 
the  danger  of  unwholesomeness.  After 
that,  I  met  her  when  and  wherever  I  could 
push  my  way  to  her.  I  thought  of  her, 
sleeping  and  waking;  received  from  her 
looks  and  tones  and  words  that  would,  as> 


Out  of  the  lady  novelists  are  so  fond  of  saying, 
Season    l  tempt  an  anchorite  ; '  believed  in  her  !  " 

"  My  poor  child,  how  wretched  !  "  said 
Mrs.  Gervase,  promptly. 

"  So  it  proved.  Last  but  not  least  of 
the  comedy, —  I  skip  the  details, —  I  was 
deluded  into  buttoning  myself  up  in  a 
fluffy,  long-tailed,  iron-gray  coat  that  I  got 
in  London  last  spring  and  had  not  had 
time  to  wear,  put  on  a  bunch  of  white 
carnations,  and  drove  out  to  one  of  those 
inane  Claremont  teas  in  my  friend  Pierre 
Sargent's  trap,  because,  forsooth,  she  asked 
me.  For  an  hour  I  suffered  martyrdom 
in  that  little  greenhouse  sort  of  a  veranda, 
with  people  herded  together  gossiping,  and 
not  setting  their  feet  upon  the  lawn  over 
the  river  that  they  came  out  to  see. 
Women  talked  drivel  to  me,  waiters 
slopped  tea  over  me,  and  we  walked  on 
slices  of  buttered  bread.  Then  she  came 
—  on  the  box-seat  of  that  brute  Mc- 
Laughlin's  drag,  having  eyes  for  him  only, 
so  that  every  one  talked  of  it !  " 

"I  remember  —  and  I  could  not  im- 
agine what  brought  you  there.  Yes,  I  sat 
down  on  a  little  cake  and  completely 


ruined  my  new  porcelain-blue  crepon —  Out  of 
those  waiters  were  very  careless.  Jolly  Season 
faded  it  trying  to  take  out  the  spot,  and 
Mathilde  had  the  greatest  trouble  to  match 
the  stuff.  Alan,  that  man  McLaughlin 
ought  to  be  drummed  out  of  polite  soci- 
ety. The  girl  who  would  receive  his  at- 
tentions, let  herself  be  talked  of  as  likely 
to  be  his  wife,  cannot  at  heart  be  nice. 
When  your  dear  mother  and  I  were  girls, 
we  would  not  have  looked  at  a  big,  vulgar 
creature  like  that,  simply  because  he  drove 
four-in-hand  and  was  known  to  be  rich. 
He  would  never  have  been  asked  to  your 
grandfather's  table.  The  materialism  of 
this  age  takes,  to  me,  no  form  more  objec- 
tionable than  the  frank  acceptance  of  such 
as  he  by  women,  old  and  young." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Grove,  grimly.  "  And 
when  I  met  her  at  his  side,  she  turned 
away  from  him  one  moment  with  a  banal 
jest  for  me,  and  then  quickly  recaptured 
him,  as  if  fearful  he  would  escape.  That, 
even  my  infatuation  would  not  suffer.  I 
turned  on  my  heel,  and,  until  I  met  her 
by  chance  on  the  boat  to-day,  have  never 
seen  her  since." 


Out  of      "  What  can  have  been  her  reason  for 
Season    not  going  abroad  ?  "  said   Mrs.  Gervase, 
eagerly  —  a  trifle  suspiciously. 

Grove  was  silent.  In  his  ear  sounded 
a  dulcet  voice,  murmuring  as  the  boat 
neared  shore  :  "  Perhaps,  when  you  have 
consented  to  feel  better  friends  with  me, 
you  will  come  and  let  me  tell  you  why  I 
stayed" 

"  You  know,  of  course,  that  everybody 
says  she  is  engaged  ?  Her  mother  has 
hinted  it  to  Mrs.  Prettyman.  If  it  be  to 
this  McLaughlin,  then  God  knows  you  are 
well  rid  of  her.  If  that  be  a  blind,  Alan 
dear, — you  know  it  was  always  my  way 
with  you  boys  to  scold  about  little  things 
and  let  great  ones  pass,  —  I  shan't  add  a 
word  to  your  self-reproach  ;  but  I  '11  warn 
you  —  oh!  I  won't  have  the  sin  on  my 
soul  of  letting  you  go  unwarned.  That 
woman,  no  matter  whether  she  thinks  she 
loves  you  or  not,  would  make  your  mis- 
ery. The  parents  of  to-day  don't  trouble 
themselves  to  train  up  wives  for  the  rank 
and  file  of  our  honest  gentlemen.  They 
create  fine  ladies,  and  look  about  for  some 
one  to  take  the  expense  of  them  off  their 


hands.      It  is  common  talk  that  the  Eliots    Out  of 
have  been  strained  to  their  utmost  means   Season 
to  carry  their  girls   from  place  to  place, 
with  the  expectation  of  making  rich  mar- 
riages.    The  beauty  and  success  of  this 
one  has  apparently  blinded  those  poor  peo- 
ple  to   the   consequences   of   their   folly. 
The  girl  has  been  brought  up  to  fancy  her- 
self of  superior  clay,  —  her  habits  are  lux- 
urious, her  wants  extravagant. 

"  More  than  all,  for  five  years  she  has 
been  fed  on  the  flatteries  of  society.  Per- 
sonal praise  is  indispensable  to  her.  She 
has  lived  and  consorted  with  the  most  lav- 
ish entertainers  of  the  most  reckless  society 
in  our  republic.  Even  supposing  that  you 
won  her  beauty  and  graces  for  your  own, 
what  on  earth  could  you  expect  to  offer 
her  in  exchange  for  what  she  would  give 
up  ?  My  poor,  dear  lad,  I  'm  talking  plati- 
tudes, you  think ;  but  you  and  Tom  and 
Louis  shall  not  be  allowed  to  wreck  your 
futures  upon  such  as  Gladys  Eliot,  while  I 
have  breath  to  speak.  I  'm  afraid  I  think 
all  marriages  a  mistake  for  young  men.  I 
know  they  are,  as  we  measure  and  value 
things,  in  what  we  call  4  fashionable  life.' 


Out  of  Go  out  of  it,  by  all   means,  if  you  can. 

Season  To  take  her  out  of  it  you  would  find  to  be 
quite  another  matter.  And  now,  after  this 
long  homily,  I  've  one  question  to  put. 
Answer  it,  if  you  like  —  if  you  think  I  've 
the  right  to  ask  it.  After  seeing  her  again 
to-day,  do  you  feel  there  is  danger  in  her 
proximity  ?  " 

"  You  have  certainly  torn  sentiment  to 
shreds,"  said  Alan,  getting  up  from  amid 
his  cushions  and  beginning  to  stride  up  and 
down  the  long  veranda.  Mrs.  Gervase 
watched  him  without  further  speech.  That 
he  did  not  again  allude  to  the  subject  sent 
her  to  bed  with  keen  anxiety  and  a  re- 
newed regret  that  Mr.  Gervase  had  not 
taken  her  advice  about  buying  that  point 
of  land  before  it  fell  into  the  hands  of  the 
Prettymans. 

For  the  two  or  three  days  following  his 
arrival  at  Stoneacres,  Grove  made  no  at- 
tempt to  see  his  neighbor's  guest.  Once, 
indeed, they  encountered  her  on  horseback, 
while  driving  together  in  a  family  party  in 
the  buckboard,  behind  the  cobs.  Mr.  Ger- 
vase, who,  in  his  later  enthusiasm  about 
the  Junius  correspondence,  had  forgotten 

[w] 


his  charmer,  asked  who  was  that  stunning,    Out  of 
pretty  girl,  and,  on  being  rallied  by  his  wife,  Season 
declared  his  poor  sight  was  at  fault,  and 
that  he  meant  to  call  on  the   Prettymans 
that  very  day  ;   but  Saturday  brought  with 
it  the  appointed  dinner,  without  other  over- 
ture from   Stoneacres    than  cards  left  by 
Mrs.  Gervase  when  the  ladies  were  from 
home. 

Grove  was  hardly  surprised  when,  on 
descending  to  the  drawing-room  in  evening 
clothes,  he  found  only  that  very  colorless 
pair  of  Prettymans.  Miss  Eliot,  it  was 
alleged,  was  suffering  from  too  long  a  ride 
in  the  hot  sun  of  the  afternoon  to  make 
the  effort  to  come  out.  He  saw  in  the 
countenance  of  his  aunt  a  look  of  relief, 
which  she  at  once  proceeded  to  mask  by 
unusual  suavity  to  mankind  in  general,  her 
flattered  guests  in  particular. 

"  The  worst  is  over  ;  I  am  safe,"  Grove 
decided.  "  But  I  like  her  all  the  better 
for  that  womanly  holding  back.  Now,  to 
live  down  my  folly  as  best  I  can." 

He  threw  himself  into  hard  work,  and 
the  days  passed  healthily.  Mrs.  Gervase 
had  begun  to  relax  her  vigilance,  to  breathe 

[w] 


Out  of  almost  free  of  care,  when,  upon  one  of  his 
Season  morning  rides,  ahead  of  him  in  a  forest 
glade,  he  espied  Gladys  Eliot,  in  the  sad- 
dle, attended  by  one  of  the  Prettyman  boys, 
a  youngster  of  thirteen,  mounted  on  a  polo 
pony  in  process  of  "  showing  off"  his  and 
his  master's  accomplishments. 

At  the  sound  behind  them,  both  Gladys 
and  the  boy  turned  to  look  ;  and  Grove 
saw  that  he  could  not  retreat  without  a 
decided  lack  of  dignity.  He  therefore  rode 
by  them,  receiving  from  Miss  Eliot  a  faint 
and  chilly  nod;  from  the  boy, — an  ac- 
quaintance of  last  year, — a  more  cordial 
salutation. 

"  I  say,  Mr.  Grove,  can't  Punch  take 
that  fallen  tree  ?  "  cried  out  the  lad,  in 
shrill  treble.  "  She  says  it 's  dangerous, 
because  the  bank  is  caved.  Hold  on  one 
minute,  and  I  '11  show  you  he  can  clear  it, 
bank  and  all." 

Punch,  proving  nothing  loth,  jumped 
the  obstacles  in  question  gallantly,  but  on 
the  far  side  slipped  on  something,  and 
spilled  his  rider  among  a  bed  of  tall  bracken, 
in  which  the  boy  lay,  lost  to  sight.  Both 
Grove  and  Gladys  were  in  a  minute  at  his 


side,  shocked   at    finding  him  white   and    Out  cf 
senseless.  Season 

"  It  was  not  the  fall,"  she  said,  rapidly. 
"  He  has  heart-trouble,  and  his  mother  is 
always  anxious  about  a  sudden  shock  for 
him.  He  will  outgrow  it  probably,  the 
doctors  say.  Here,  you  hold  him  in  your 
arms,  while  I  get  water  from  that  brook. 
I  know  what  to  do,  and  he  will  soon  come 
to  himself." 

Grove  found  himself  silently  obeying 
her  behests.  He  was  strucK  by  her  prompt 
presence  of  mind,  her  deftness,  and  good 
sense.  "What  an  admirable  trained  nurse 
is  lost  to  the  world  in  her  !  "  he  thought, 
and,  when  all  was  done,  and  the  boy  gave 
token  of  returning  life,  sat  still,  content  to 
crush  down  moss  and  ferns,  awkwardly 
holding  his  burden,  while  Gladys  knelt  so 
close  that  her  breath  in  speaking  fanned 
his  cheek. 

"  It  was  n't  Punch's  fault.  I  've  got  a 
big  bee  buzzing  in  my  head,"  were  the 
welcome  words  they  at  last  heard  from 
the  sufferer. 

"  Yes,  I  know,  Jim  dear,  but  don't 
talk  now  till  the  big  bee  flies  away,"  and 

[Wj 


Out  of  the    boy,    closing    his    eyes,  appeared    to 

Season    sleep. 

"  Lay  his  head  on  my  lap,  and  then,  if 
you  don't  mind  riding  back  and  ordering 
some  sort  of  a  trap,  without  letting  his 
mother  know  —  " 

"  I  can't  leave  you  here.  It  is  too  far 
from  home,  and  the  country  hereabouts  is 
quite  bare  of  dwellings.  Nor  would  I 
like  you  to  ride  so  far  alone.  There ; 
let  him  sleep,  and  we  will  watch  him  till 
he  wakes.  No  doctor  could  have  treated 
him  more  cleverly  than  you." 

"  It 's  the  result  of  a  <  First  Aid  to  the 
Injured '  class  I  went  to  once,  perhaps. 
But  I  always  had  a  knack  with  ill  people," 
she  said,  dropping  the  deep  fringes  of  her 
eyes  upon  damask  cheeks. 

That  evening,  Grove  could  do  no  less 
than  call  to  inquire  after  Master  Jim, 
who,  not  much  the  worse  for  his  attack, 
kept  his  adoring  mother  in  durance  at  his 
bedside,  while  Grove  sat  watching  the  opal 
flushes  die  out  of  a  western  sky,  in  com- 
pany with  Gladys.  Quite  another  Gladys 


was  this,  in  all  save  beauty  and  her  dulcet    Out  of 
voice,  from  his  enslaver  of  town  life.  Season 

And  now,  to  Mrs.  Gervase's  ill-con- 
cealed dismay,  visits,  meetings,  rides,  boat- 
ing, began  and  continued  daily.  Grove 
was  teaching  Miss  Eliot  chess,  he  said, 
and  the  other  things  were  what  they  call 
upon  the  stage  "incidental  divertise- 
ments." 

A  fortnight  of  glorious  weather  had 
passed  thus,  when,  on  the  eve  of  Grove's 
return  to  town  and  work,  he  asked  Gladys 
to  go  out  in  a  boat  with  him  to  watch  the 
sunset  on  the  water. 

"  Now  you  have  told  me  there  is  no 
reason  I  may  not  speak,  I  can  wait  no 
longer  for  an  answer,"  he  said,  as,  resting 
on  his  oars,  he  scanned  her  face  eagerly. 
u  When  a  man  tears  his  heart  out  and 
throws  it  at  a  woman's  feet,  surely  he 
offers  something.  But  that,  you  know,  is 
my  all.  If  you  can  consent  to  share  the 
kind  of  life  mine  has  got  to  be  for  the 
next  five  or  six  years,  I  think  I  see  day- 
light beyond.  By  that  time,  your  first  youth 
will  be  gone,  you  will  be  forgotten  by  the 


Out  of  people  who  court  you  now,  you  will  be  a 
Season  nobody  in  their  esteem.  To  me,  you  will 
always  be  the  one  woman  of  the  world. 
You  will  have  the  full  love  of  my  heart; 
and  you  shall  see  what  that  means,  when 
a  true  man  pours  it  upon  you  unrestrained. 
I  don't  pretend  to  be  worth  it,  Heaven 
knows.  But  I  do  say  you  have  never  be- 
fore been  loved  by  a  man  like  me,  and  you 
know  it  and  feel  it  thoroughly.  It 's  for 
you  to  take  or  leave  me,  accepting  conse- 
quences." 

"  What  a  stand-and-deliver  kind  of  love- 
making  !  "  Gladys  tried  to  say ;  but  she 
was  deeply  stirred.  Remaining  silent,  her 
eyes  filled  with  tears ;  her  head  drooped 
towards  her  breast. 

"  Gladys  !  "  cried  he,  exultingly. 

"  Don't  you  see,  now,  the  real  reason 
why  I  could  not  go  abroad  ? "  she  said, 
smiling  on  him  brightly,  and  lifting,  at  the 
same  moment,  her  ungloved  left  hand  to 
put  back  a  loose  lock  of  hair  that  the  wind 
had  blown  across  her  cheek.  Grove,  gaz- 
ing at  her  with  his  whole  soul  in  his  eyes, 
became  aware  of  a  ring  upon  the  fourth 
finger,  —  a  ring  of  such  conspicuous  bril- 


liancy    and    choice    gems    as    to    convey    Out  of 
but    one    meaning,  —  and    his   expression   Season 
changed. 

"  Oh  !  I  hate  it !  I  shall  give  it  back  !  " 
she  exclaimed,  a  burning  blush  settling 
upon  her  face.  "  I  did  not  mean  —  it  was 
an  accident.  I  hate  it,  I  tell  you  !  Why 
do  you  look  at  me  like  that  ?  " 

She  tore  the  ring  from  her  hand,  and 
impetuously  put  it  out  of  sight.  Presently, 
as  Grove,  in  mechanical  fashion,  resumed 
his  rowing  without  a  word,  she  cried  out, 
passionately : 

"  Why  do  you  not  ask  me  to  explain  all 
the — circumstances  of  my  life  since  I 
saw  you  last  ?  Why  can't  you  understand 
that  a  girl  situated  as  I  am  has  temptations 
that  at  times  seem  to  her  irresistible  ? 
Need  I  mortify  myself  by  telling  you  that 
I  am  driven  —  driven  till  I  feel  as  if  I 
would  do  anything  to  get  rest  from  eternal 
lectures  about  what  a  rich  marriage  has 
got  to  do  for  me  —  and  for  others  ?  Yes, 
you  are  right  in  saying  that  a  man  like 
you  never  before  asked  me  to  marry  him. 
Because  I  feel  that  —  because  —  be- 
cause—  Oh  !  you  are  cruel  not  to  speak 


Out  of  —  to  help  me  !  How  can  I  put  into 
Season  words  that  I  am  willing  to  give  up  all — " 

It  was  impossible,  facing  the  rigid  cold- 
ness of  his  face,  to  go  on.  She  sat  in 
wretched  silence  till  they  reached  shore, 
and  he  gave  her  his  chilly  hand  to  help 
her  upon  the  float.  Then  the  touch  of 
her  fingers  sent  a  tremor  of  relenting  into 
his  veins. 

«  Oh,  if  I  could  !  If  I  could  !  But  he 
too  —  that  other  one  —  believed.  Tell 
me ;  he  does  not  still  believe  in  you  ?  " 

"  Thate  him,"  she  said,  doggedly.  She 
shivered  a  little,  as  the  quickened  breeze 
of  evening  struck  her  thinly-clad  form. 

Grove,  clasping  her  hand,  gazed  into 
her  eyes  with  a  desperate  resolve  to  read 
her  heart. 

41  Let  me  go  —  it  is  no  use,"  she  said, 
turning  away  from  him. 

And,  with  a  sigh  deep  as  Fate,  he  loos- 
ened his  hold  of  her  —  forever. 


On   Frenchman's  Bay 


Chapter  I 

FROM    Maxwell    Pollock,  Esq.,  No.  On 
—  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York,  to   Ste-  French- 

phen    Cranbrooke,    Esq.,  Club,  man's 

New  York.  Bay 

"  May  30,  189—. 
"  My  dear  Cranbrooke  : 

"  You  will  wonder  why  I  follow  up  our 
conversation  of  last  evening  with  a  letter  ; 
why,  instead  of  speaking,  I  should  write 
what  is  left  to  be  said  between  us  two. 

"  But  after  a  sleepless  night,  of  which 
my  little  wife  suspects  nothing,  I  am  im- 
pelled to  confide  in  you  —  my  oldest 
friend,  her  friend,  although  you  and  she 
have  not  yet  grown  to  the  comprehension 
of  each  other  I  hoped  for  when  she  mar- 
ried me  three  years  ago  —  a  secret  that  has 
begun  to  weigh  heavy  upon  my  soul. 

"  I  do  not  need  to  remind  you  that, 
since  our  college  days,  you  have  known  me 
subject  to  fits  of  moodiness  and  depression 
upon  which  you  have  often  rallied  me. 


On  How  many  times  you  have  said  that  a  fel- 

French-  low     to    whom    Fate    had    given    health, 
man's      strength,  opportunity,  and  fortune  —  and 
Bay         recently  the  treasure  of  a  lovely  and  lov- 
ing wife  —  has  no  business  to  admit  the 
word   c  depression  '    into    his    vocabulary  ! 
"  This  is  true.     I  acknowledge  it,  as  I 
have  a  thousand  times  before.      I  am  a 
fool,  a  coward,  to  shrink  from  what  is  be- 
fore me.      But  I  was  still  more  of  a  fool 
and  a  coward  when  I  married  her.     For 
her  sake,  the  prospect  of  my  death  before 
this  summer  wanes   impels  me  to  own  to 
you  my  certainty  that  my  end  is  close  at 
hand. 

"In  every  generation  of  our  family 
since  the  old  fellow  who  came  over  from 
England  and  founded  us  on  Massachusetts 
soil,  the  oldest  son  has  been  snatched  out 
of  life  upon  the  threshold  of  his  thirtieth 
year.  I  carried  into  college  with  me  an 
indelible  impression  of  the  sudden  and  dis- 
tressing death  of  my  father,  at  that  period 
of  his  prosperous  career,  and  of  the  wild 
cry  of  my  widowed  mother  when  she 
clasped  me  to  her  breast,  and  prayed 
Heaven  might  avert  the  doom  from  me. 


"  Everything  that  philosophy,  science,  On 
common  sense,  could  bring  to  the  task  of  French- 
arguing  me  out  of  a  belief  in  the  trans-  man's 
mission  of  this  sentence  of  a  higher  power  Bay 
to  me,  has  been  tried.     I    have   studied, 
travelled,  lived,  enjoyed  myself  in  a  ra- 
tional way  ;  have  loved  and  won  the  one 
woman  upon  earth  for  me,  have  revelled 
in  her  wifely  tenderness. 

"  I  have  tried  to  do  my  duty  as  a  man 
and  a  citizen.  In  all  other  respects,  I  be- 
lieve myself  to  be  entirely  rational,  cool- 
headed,  unemotional ;  but  I  have  never 
been  able  to  down  that  spectre.  He  is 
present  at  every  feast ;  and,  although  in 
perfectly  good  health,  I  resolved  yesterday 
to  put  the  question  to  a  practical  test.  I 
called  at  the  office  of  an  eminent  special- 
ist, whom  I  had  never  met,  although  doubt- 
less he  knew  my  name,  as  I  knew  his. 

"  Joining  the  throng  of  waiting  folk  in 

Dr. 's  outer  office,  I  turned  over  the 

leaves  of  the  last  number  of  Punch,  with 
what  grim  enjoyment  of  its  menu  of  jocu- 
larity you  may  conceive.  When  my  turn 
came,  I  asked  for  a  complete  physical  ex- 
amination. But  the  doctor  got  no  farther 


On          than  my  heart  before   I  was  conscious  of 
French-  awakening  interest  on  his  part.    When  the 
man's      whole  business  was  over,  he  told  me  frankly 
Bay         that  in  what  he  was  pleased  to  call  c  a  mag- 
nificent physique,'  there  was  but  one  blem- 
ish, —  a  spot  upon  the  ripe  side  of  a  peach, 
—  a  certain  condition  of  the    heart   that 
1  might  or  might  not '  give  serious  trouble 
in  the  future. 

"  c  Might  or  might  not '  !  How  I  en- 
vied the  smooth-spoken  man  of  science 
his  ability  to  say  these  words  so  glibly  ! 
While  I  took  his  medical  advice,  —  that, 
between  us,  was  not  worth  a  straw,  and  he 
knew  it,  and  I  knew  it,  —  I  was  thinking 
of  Ethel.  I  saw  her  face  when  she  should 
know  the  worst ;  and  I  became,  immedi- 
ately, an  abject,  cringing,  timorous  thing, 
that  crept  out  of  the  doctor's  office  into 
the  spring  sunshine,  wondering  why  the 
world  was  all  a-cold. 

"  Here 's  where  the  lash  hits  me  :  I 
should  never  have  married  Ethel ;  I  should, 
knowing  my  doom,  have  married  no  one 
but  some  commonplace,  platitudinous  crea- 
ture, whom  the  fortune  I  shall  leave  behind 
me  would  have  consoled.  But  Ethel ! 


high-strung,  ardent,  simple-hearted,  wor-  On 
shipping  me  far  beyond  my  deserts  !    Why  French- 
did  I  condemn  her,  poor  girl,  to  what  is  so  man's 
soon  to  come  ?  Bay 

"  On  the  fifteenth  day  of  the  coming 
August,  I  shall  have  reached  thirty  years. 
Before  that  day,  the  blow  will  fall  upon 
her,  and  it  is  my  fault.  You  know,  Cran- 
brooke,  that  I  do  not  fear  death.  What 
manly  soul  fears  death  ?  It  is  only  to  the 
very  young,  or  to  the  very  weak  of  spirit, 
the  King  appears  in  all  his  terrors.  Hav- 
ing expected  him  so  long  and  so  confi- 
dently, I  hope  I  may  meet  him  with  a 
courageous  front.  But  Ethel !  Ethel  ! 

"  She  will  be  quite  alone  with  me  this 
summer.  Her  mother  and  sisters  have  just 
sailed  for  the  other  side,  and  I  confess  I 
am  selfish  enough  to  crave  her  to  myself 
in  the  last  hours.  But  some  one  she  must 
have  to  look  after  her,  and  whom  can  I 
trust  like  you  ?  I  want  you  to  promise  to 
come  to  us  to  spend  your  August  holiday  ; 
to  be  there,  in  fact,  when  — 

"  In  the  meantime,  there  must  be  no 
suggestion  of  what  I  expect.  She,  least 
of  all,  must  suspect  it.  I  should  like  to 


On          go   out   to   the  unknown  with  her  light- 
French-  hearted,  girlish  laugh  ringing  in  my  ears. 
man's  "  When  we    meet,  as   usual,  you  will 

Bay  oblige  me  by  saying  nothing  of  this  letter 
or  its  contents.  By  complying  with  this 
request,  you  will  add  one  more  —  a  final 
one,  dear  old  man  —  to  the  long  list  of 
kindnesses  for  which  I  am  your  debtor ; 
and,  believe  me,  dear  Cranbrooke, 
"  Yours,  always  faithfully, 

"  MAXWELL  POLLOCK." 

"  Good  heaven  !  "  exclaimed  Stephen 
Cranbrooke,  dropping  the  sheet  as  if  it 
burnt  him,  and  sitting  upright  and  aghast. 
"  So  this  is  the  cranny  in  Pollock's  brain 
where  I  have  never  before  been  able  to 
penetrate." 

Later  that  day,  Mr.  Cranbrooke  re- 
ceived another  epistle,  prefaced  by  the 
house  address  of  the  Maxwell  Pollocks. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Cranbrooke,"  this  letter 
ran,  "  Max  tells  me  he  has  extended  to 
you  an  invitation  to  share  our  solitude  a 
deux  in  your  August  holiday.  I  need 


hardly  say  that  I  endorse  this  heartily  ;  and  On 
I  hope  you  will  not  regret  to  learn  that,  French- 
instead  of   going,  as  usual,  to  our  great,  man's 
big,  isolated  country-place  in  New  Hamp-  Bay 
shire,  I  have  persuaded  Max  to  take  a  cot- 
tage on  the  shore  of  Frenchman's   Bay, 
near  Bar  Harbor,  —  but  not  too  near  that 
gay  resort,  —  where  he  can  have  his  sail- 
boat and  canoe,  and  a  steam-launch  for 
me  to  get  about  in.     They  say  the  sunsets 
over  the  water   there  are    adorable,  and 
Max  has  an   artist's  soul,  as   you   know, 
and  will  delight  in  the  picturesque  beauty 
of  it  all. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you,  confidentially,  that 
I  have  fancied  a  change  of  air  and  scene 
might  do  him  good  this  year.  He  is  cer- 
tainly not  ill;  but  is,  as  certainly,  not 
quite  himself.  I  suppose  you  will  think  I 
am  a  little  goose  for  saying  so ;  but  I  be- 
lieve if  anything  went  wrong  with  Max, 
I  could  never  stand  up  against  it.  And 
there  is  no  other  man  in  the  world,  than 
you,  whom  I  would  ask  to  help  me  to  find 
out  what  it  really  is  that  worries  him, — 
whether  ill-fortune,  or  what, —  certainly 


On          not  ill-health,  for  he  is  a  model  of  splendid 

French-  vigor,  as  everybody  knows,  my  beautiful 

man's      husband  !  " 

Bay  "  This  is  what  she  calls  pleasant  read- 

ing for  me,"  said  plain,  spare  Stephen 
Cranbrooke,  with  a  whimsical  twist  of  his 
expressive  mouth. 

"  At  any  rate,"  he  read,  resuming, "  you 
and  I  will  devote  ourselves  to  making  it 
nice  for  him  up  there.  No  man,  however 
he  loves  his  wife,  can  afford  to  do  alto- 
gether without  men's  society  ;  and  it  is  so 
hard  for  me  to  get  Max  to  go  into  general 
company,  or  to  cultivate  intimacy  with 
any  man  but  you  ! 

11  There  is  a  bachelor's  wing  to  the  cot- 
tage we  have  taken,  with  a  path  leading 
direct  to  the  wharf  where  the  boats  are 
moored  ;  and  this  you  can  occupy  by  your- 
self, having  breakfast  alone,  as  Max  and  I 
are  erratic  in  that  respect.  We  shall  have 
a  buckboard  for  the  ponies,  and  our  sad- 
dle-horses, with  a  horse  for  you  to  ride; 
and  we  shall  pledge  each  other  not  to  ac- 
cept a  single  invitation  to  anybody's  house, 
unless  it  please  us  to  go  there. 

"  Not  less  than  a  month  will  we  take 


from  you,  and  I  wish  it  might  be  longer.  On 
Perhaps  you  may  like  to  know  there  is  no  French- 
other  man  Max  would  ask,  and  I  should  man's 
want,  to  be  '  one  of  us '  under  such  cir-  Bay 
cumstances. 

"  Always  cordially  yours, 

"  ETHEL  POLLOCK." 

"  I  asked  her  for  bread,  and  she  gave 
me  a  stone,"  he  quoted,  with  a  return  of 
the  whimsical  expression.  "  Well  !  nei- 
ther he  nor  she  has  ever  suspected  my  in- 
fatuation. I  am  glad  she  wrote  as  she  did, 
though,  for  it  makes  the  watch  I  mean  to 
set  over  Max  easier.  After  looking  at  his 
case  in  every  aspect,  I  am  convinced  there 
is  a  remedy,  if  I  can  only  find  it." 

A  knock,  just  then,  at  the  door  of  Mr. 
Cranbrooke's  comfortable  bachelor  sitting- 
room  was  followed  by  the  appearance  in- 
side of  it  of  a  man,  at  sight  of  whom 
Cranbrooke's  careworn  and  puzzled  coun- 
tenance brightened  perceptibly. 

"  Ha  !  Shepard  !  "  he  said,  rising  to  be- 
stow on  the  newcomer  a  hearty  grip  of  the 
hand.  "  Did  you  divine  how  much  I 
wanted  to  talk  to  a  fellow  who  has  pursued 


On          exactly  your  line  of  study,  and  one,  too, 
French-  who,  more  than  any  other  I  happen  to  be 
man's      acquainted  with,  knows  just  how  far  mind 
Bay         may  be  made  to  influence  matter  in  pre- 
venting   catastrophe,  when  —  but,    there, 
what  am  I  to  do  ?      It 's  another  man's 
affair,  —  a  confidence  that  must  be  held 
inviolable." 

"  Give  me  the  case  hypothetically," 
said  Shepard,  dropping,  according  to  cus- 
tom, into  a  leathern  chair  out  at  elbows  but 
full  of  comfort  to  the  spine  of  reclining 
man,  while  accepting  one  of  Cranbrooke's 
galaxy  of  famously  tinted  pipes. 

"  I  think  I  will  try  to  do  so,"  rejoined 
his  friend, tc  since  upon  it  hangs  the  weal 
or  woe  of  two  people,  in  their  way  more 
interesting  to  me  than  any  others  in  the 
world." 

"  I  am  all  ears,"  said  Dr.  Shepard,  fix- 
ing upon  Cranbrooke  the  full  gaze  of  a 
pair  of  deep-set  orbs  that  had  done  their 
full  share  of  looking  intelligently  into  the 
mystery  of  cerebral  vagaries.  Cranbrooke, 
as  well  as  he  could,  told  the  gist  of  Pol- 
lock's letter,  expressing  his  opinion  that 
to  a  man  of  the  writer's  temperament  the 

[w] 


conviction   of  approaching   death  was  as  On 
good  as  an  actual  death-warrant.  French- 

Shepard,  who  asked  nothing  better  than  man's 
an  intelligent  listener  when  launched  upon  Bay 
his  favorite  theories,  kept  the  floor  for  fif- 
teen minutes  in  a  brilliant    offhand    dis- 
course full  of  technicalities  intermingled 
with  sallies  of  strong  original  thought,  to 
which    Cranbrooke    listened,  as    men    in 
such  a  case  are  wont  to  do,  in  fascinated 
silence. 

"  But  this  is  generalizing,"  the  doctor 
interrupted  himself  at  last.  "  What  you 
want  is  a  special  discussion  of  your  friend's 
condition.  Of  course,  not  knowing  his 
physical  state,  I  can't  pretend  to  say  how 
long  it  is  likely  to  be  before  that  heart- 
trouble  will  pull  him  up  short.  But  the 
merest  tyro  knows  that  men  under  sen- 
tence from  heart-disease  have  lived  their 
full  span.  It  is  the  obsession  of  his  mind, 
the  invasion  of  his  nerves  by  that  long- 
brooding  idea,  that  bothers  me.  I  am  in- 
clined to  think  the  odds  are  he  will  go  mad 
if  he  doesn't  die." 

"  Good  God,  Shepard  !  "  came  from  his 
friend's  pale  lips. 


On  "  Is  n't  that  what  you  were  worrying 

French-  about  when  I  came  in  ?  Yes  —  you 
man's  need  n't  answer.  You  think  so,  too  ;  and 
Bay  we  are  not  posing  as  wise  men  when  we 
arrive  at  that  simple  conclusion." 

"  What  on  earth  are  we  to  do  for  him  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,  unless  it  be  to  distract 
his  mind  by  some  utterly  unlooked-for 
concatenation  of  circumstances.  Get  his 
wife  to  make  love  to  another  man,  for  in- 
stance." 

"  Shepard,  you  forget ;  these  are  my 
nearest  friends." 

"  And  you  forget  I  am  a  sceptic  about 
a  love  between  the  sexes  that  cannot  be 
alienated,"  answered  the  little  doctor, 
coolly. 

Cranbrooke  had  indeed,  for  a  moment, 
lost  sight  of  his  confidant's  dark  page  of 
life  —  forgotten  the  experience  that,  years 
ago,  had  broken  up  the  doctor's  home,  and 
made  of  him  a  scoffer  against  the  faith  of 
woman.  He  was  silent,  and  Shepard  went 
on  with  no  evidence  of  emotion. 

"  When  that  happened  to  me,  it  was  a 
dynamite  explosion  that  effectually  broke 
up  the  previous  courses  of  thought  within 


me  ;  and,  naturally,  the  idea  occurs  to  me  On 
as  a  specific  for  the  case  of  your  melan-  French- 
choly  friend.     Seriously,  Cranbrooke,  you  man's 
could  do  worse  than  attack  him  from  some  Ba\ 
unexpected  quarter,  in  some  point  where 
he  is  acutely  sensitive  —  play  upon  him, 
excite  him,  distract  him,  and  so  carry  him 
past  the  date  he  fears." 

"  How  could  I  ?  "  asked  Cranbrooke  of 
himself. 

There  was  another  knock ;  and,  upon 
Cranbrooke's  hearty  bidding  to  come  in, 
there  entered  no  less  a  person  than  the 
subject  of  their  conversation. 

Even  the  astute  Shepard  finished  his 
pipe  and  took  his  leave  without  suspecting 
that  the  manly,  healthy,  clear-eyed,  and 
animated  Maxwell  Pollock  had  anything 
in  common  with  the  possessed  hero  of 
Cranbrooke's  story.  Cranbrooke,  who  had 
dreaded  a  reopening  of  the  subject  of  Pol- 
lock's letter,  was  infinitely  relieved  to  find 
it  left  untouched. 

The  visit,  lasting  till  past  midnight,  was 
one  of  a  long  series  dating  back  to  the  time 
when  they  were  undergraduates  at  the  uni- 
versity. There  had  never  been  a  break  in 

[W] 


On          their  friendship.      The   society  of  Cran- 

French-  brooke,  after  that  of  his  own  wife,  was  to 

man's      Pollock  ever  the  most  refreshing,  the  most 

Bay         inspiring  to  high  and  manly  thought.  They 

talked,  now,  upon  topics  grave  and  gay, 

without  hinting  at  the  shadow  overlying 

all.       Pollock  was   at  his  best ;    and  his 

friend's  heart  went  out  to  him  anew  in  a 

wave  of  that  sturdy  affection  "  passing  the 

love  of  woman"  —  rare,  perhaps,  in  our 

material   money-getting   community,  but, 

happily,  still  existing  among  true  men. 

When  the  visitor  arose  to  take  leave, 
he  said  in  simple  fashion  :  "  Then  I  may 
count  on  you,  Cranbrooke,  to  stand  by  us 
this  summer  ? " 

"  Count  on  me  in  all  things,"  Cran- 
brooke answered ;  and  the  two  shook 
hands,  and  Pollock  went  his  way  cheerily, 
as  usual. 

"  Is  this  a  dream  ?  "  Cranbrooke  asked 
himself,  when  left  alone.  "  Can  it  be 
possible  that  sane,  splendid  fellow  is  a  vic- 
tim of  pitiful  hallucination,  or  that  he  is 
really  to  be  cut  off  in  the  golden  summer 
of  his  days.  No,  it  can't  be ;  it  must 
not  be.  He  must  be,  as  Shepard  says, 


4  pulled  up  short '  by  main  force.     At  any  On 
cost,  I  must  save  him.      But  how  ?      Any-  French- 
how  !      Max  must  be  made  to  forget  him-  man's 
self — even  if   I   am   the   sacrifice!      By   Bay 
George  !  this  is  a   plight  I  'm   in  !     And 
Ethel,  who  adores  the  ground   he  walks 
upon  !      I    shall    probably   end   by   losing 
both  of  them,  worse  luck  !  " 

The  morning  had  struggled  through 
Cranbrooke's  window-blinds  before  he 
stirred  from  his  fit  of  musing  and  went 
into  his  bedroom  for  a  few  hours  of 
troubled  sleep. 


Chapter   II 

On  1\/T^-  anc^  Mrs.  Pollock  took  possession 
French-  J.V-Lof  their  summer  abiding-place  on  a 
man's  glorious  day  of  refulgent  June,  such  as,  in 
Bay  the  dazzling  atmosphere  of  Mount  Desert 
Island,  makes  every  more  southerly  resort 
on  our  Atlantic  coast  seem  dull  by  com- 
parison. To  greet  them,  they  found  a  world 
of  fresh-washed  young  birches  sparkling 
in  the  sun ;  of  spice-distilling  evergreens, 
cropping  up  between  gray  rocks ;  of  star- 
ing white  marguerites,  and  huge,  yellow, 
satin  buttercups,  ablow  in  all  the  clearings ; 
of  crisp,  young  ferns  and  blue  iris,  unfold- 
ing amid  the  greenery  of  the  wilder  bits 
of  island  ;  haunts  that  were  soon,  in  turn, 
to  be  blushing  pink  with  a  miracle  of 
brier-roses. 

And  what  a  charmed  existence  followed  ! 
In  the  morning,  they  awoke  to  see  the 
water,  beneath  their  windows,  sparkle  red 
in  the  track  of  the  rising  sun  ;  the  islets 
blue-black  in  the  intense  glow.  All  day 
[160-] 


they  lived  abroad  in  the  virgin  woods,  or  On 
on   the   bay  in   their  canoe.     And,  after  French- 
sunsets  of  radiant  beauty,  they  would  fall  man's 
asleep,  lulled  by  the  lapping  of  little  waves  Bay 
upon  the  rock  girdle  that  bound  their  lawn. 
It  was  all  lovely,  invigorating,  healthful. 
Of  the  cottagers  who  composed  the  sum- 
mer  settlement,   only   those   had    arrived 
there  who,  like  the  Pollocks,  wanted  chiefly 
to  be  to  themselves. 

In  these  early  days  of  the  season,  Max 
and  Ethel  liked  to  explore  on  horseback 
the  bosky  roads  that  thread  the  island, 
startling  the  mother  partridge,  crested  and 
crafty,  from  her  nest,  or  sending  her,  in 
affected  woe,  in  a  direction  to  lead  one 
away  from  where  her  brood  was  left ;  lend- 
ing themselves  to  the  pretty  comedy  with 
smiles  of  sympathy.  Or  else,  they  would 
rifle  the  ferny  combs  of  dew-laden  blos- 
soms, all  the  while  hearkening  to  the 
spring  chatter  of  birds  that  did  their  best 
to  give  utterance  to  what  wind-voice  and 
leaf-tone  failed  to  convey  to  human  com- 
prehension. Then,  emerging  from  green 
arcades,  our  equestrians  would  find  them- 
selves, now,  in  some  rocky  haunt  of  pri- 


On  meval  solitude  facing  lonely  hilltops  and 
French-  isolated  tarns  ;  now,  gazing  upon  a  stretch 
man's  of  laughing  sea  framed  by  a  cleft  in  the 
Bay  highlands. 

Another  day,  they  would  climb  on  foot 
to  some  higher  mountain  top,  and  there, 
whipped  by  tonic  breezes,  stand  looking 
down  upon  the  wooded  waves  of  lesser 
summits,  inland ;  and,  seaward,  to  the 
broad  Atlantic,  with  the  ships  ;  and,  along 
the  coast,  to  the  hundreds  of  fiords,  with 
their  burden  of  swirling  waters  ! 

Coming  home  from  these  morning  ex- 
peditions with  spirit  refreshed  and  appetite 
sharpened,  it  was  their  custom  to  repair, 
after  luncheon,  to  the  water,  and  by  the 
aid  of  sails,  steam,  or  their  own  oars  or 
paddles,  cut  the  sapphire  bay  with  tracks 
of  argent  brightness,  or  linger  for  many  a 
happy  hour  in  the  green  shadow  of  the 
sylvan  shore. 

The  month  of  July  was  upon  the  wane 
before  husband  and  wife  seemingly  aroused 
to  the  recollection  that  their  idyl  was  about 
to  be  interrupted  by  the  invasion  of  a  third 
person.  Ethel,  indeed,  had  pondered  re- 
gretfully upon  the  coming  of  Cranbrooke 


for  some  days  before  she  spoke  of  it  to  On 
her  husband  ;  while  Max  !  —  French- 

The  real  purpose  of  Cranbrooke's  visit,  man's 
dismissed  from  Pollock's  mind  with  ex-  Bay 
traordinary  success  during  the  earlier 
weeks  of  their  stay  upon  the  island,  had 
by  now  assumed,  in  spite  of  him,  the  sug- 
gestion of  a  death-watch  set  upon  a  pris- 
oner. He  strove  not  to  think  of  it.  He 
refrained  from  speaking  of  it.  So  deli- 
cious had  been  to  him  the  draft  of  Ethel's 
society,  uninterrupted  by  outsiders,  in  this 
Eden  of  the  eastern  sea ;  so  perfect  their 
harmony  of  thought  and  speech;  so  charm- 
ing her  beauty,  heightened  by  salt  air  and 
outdoor  exercise  and  early  hours,  Max 
wondered  if  the  experience  had  been  sent 
to  him  as  an  especial  allowance  of  mercy 
to  the  condemned.  To  the  very  day  of 
Cranbrooke's  arrival,  even  after  a  trap  had 
been  sent  to  the  evening  boat  to  fetch  him, 
the  husband  and  wife  refrained  from  dis- 
cussing the  expected  event. 

It  was  the  hour  before  sunset,  following 
a  showery  afternoon; and,  standing  together 
upon  their  lawn  to  look  at  the  western  sky, 
Max  proposed  to  her  to  go  out  with  him 


On          for  awhile  in  the  canoe.     They  ran  like 
French-  children,  hand  in  hand,  to  the  wharf,  where, 
man's      lifting  the  frail  birch-bark  craft  from  its 
Bay        nest,  he  set  it  lightly  afloat.     Ethel,  step- 
ping expertly  into  her  place,  was  followed 
by  Max,  who,  in  his  loose  cheviot  shirt, 
barearmed    and    bareheaded,    flashing    his 
red-dyed  paddle  in  the  clear  water,  seemed 
to  her  the  embodiment  of  manly  grace  and 
strength. 

They  steered  out  into  the  bay ;  and,  as 
they  paused  to  look  back  upon  the  shore, 
the  glory  of  the  scene  grew  to  be  unspeak- 
able. Behind  the  village,  over  which  the 
electric  globes  had  not  yet  begun  to  gleam, 
towered  Newport,  a  rampart  of  glowing 
bronze,  arched  by  a  rainbow  printed  upon 
a  brooding  cloud.  Elsewhere,  the  multi- 
colored sky  flamed  with  changing  hues, 
reflected  in  a  sea  of  glass.  And  out  of 
this  sea  arose  wooded  islands  ;  and,  far  on 
the  opposite  shore  of  the  mainland,  the 
triple  hills  had  put  on  a  vestment  of  deep- 
est royal  purple. 

"  I  like  to  look  away  from  the  splendor, 
to  the  side  that  is  in  shadow,"  said  Ethel. 
*'  See,  along  that  eastern  coast,  how  the 


reflected  sunlight  is  flashed  from  the  win-  On 
dows  on  that  height,  and  the  blue  columns  French- 
of  hearth  smoke  arise  from  the  chimneys  !  man's 
Does  n't  it    make    you    somehow  rejoice  Bay 
that,  when  the  color  fades,  as  it  soon  must, 
we  shall  still  have  our  home  and  the  lights 
we  make  for  ourselves  to  go  back  to  ? " 

There  was  a  long  silence. 

"  What  has  set  you  to  moralizing, 
dear  ? "  he  asked,  trying  to  conceal  that 
he  had  winced  at  her  innocent  question. 

"Oh!  nothing.  Only,  when  one  is  su- 
premely happy,  as  I  am  now,  one  is  afraid 
to  believe  it  will  endure.  How  mild  the 
air  is  to-night !  Look  over  yonder,  Max  ; 
the  jewelled  necklace  of  Sorrento's  lights 
has  begun  to  palpitate.  Let  us  paddle 
around  that  fishing-schooner  before  we 
turn." 

"  Ethel,  you  are  crying." 

"  Am  I  ?  Then  it  is  for  pure  delight. 
I  think,  Max,  we  had  never  so  fine  an 
inspiration  as  that  of  coming  to  Mount 
Desert.  My  idea  of  the  place  has  always 
been  of  a  lot  of  rantipole  gaieties,  and  peo- 
ple crowded  in  hotels.  While  this  —  it  is 
a  little  like  Norway,  and  a  great  deal  like 


On          Southern    Italy.       Besides,    when    before 
French-  have  we  been  so  completely  to  ourselves 
man's      as  in  that  gray  stone  lodge  by  the  water- 
Bay         side,  with  its  hood  of  green  ivy,  and  the 
green  hill  rising  behind  it  ?      Let  us  come 
every  year  ;  better  still,  let  us  build  our- 
selves a  summer  home  upon  these  shores." 
"  Should  you  like  me  to  buy  the  cottage 
we  now  have,  so  that  you  can  keep  it  to 
come  to  when  you  like  ?  " 

"  When  you  like,  you  mean.  Max,  it 
can't  be  you  have  caught  cold  in  this  soft 
air,  but  your  voice  sounds  a  little  hoarse. 
Well !  I  suppose  we  must  go  in,  for  Mr. 
Cranbrooke  will  be  arriving  very  soon." 

Ethel's  sigh  found  an  echo  in  one  from 
her  husband,  at  which  the  April-natured 
young  woman  laughed. 

"  There,  it 's  out !  We  don't  want  even 
Cranbrooke,  do  we  ?  To  think  the  poor, 
dear  man's  coming  should  have  been  op- 
pressing both  of  us,  and  neither  would  be 
first  to  acknowledge  it  !  After  all,  Max 
darling,  it  is  your  fault.  It  was  you  who 
proposed  Cranbrooke.  I  knew,  all  along, 
that  I  'd  be  better  satisfied  with  you  alone. 
Now,  we  must  just  take  the  consequence 


of  your  overhasty  hospitality,  and  make  On 
him  as  happy  as  we  are  — if  we  can."          French- 

"  If  we  can  !  "  said  Max  ;  and  she  saw  man's 
an  almost  pathetic  expression  drift  across  Bay 
his  face  —  an  expression  that  bewildered 
her. 

"  Why  do  you  look  so  rueful  over  him  ? " 
"I  am  thinking,  perhaps,  how  hard  it 
will  be  for  him  to  look  at  happiness  through 
another  man's  eyes." 

"  Nonsense  !  Mr.  Cranbrooke  is  quite 
satisfied  with  his  own  lot.  He  is  one  of 
those  self-contained  men  who  could  never 
really  love,  I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Pollock, 
conclusively. 

"  He  has  in  some  way  failed  to  show 
you  his  best  side.  He  has  the  biggest, 
tenderest  heart !  I  wish  there  was  a  woman 
fit  for  him,  somewhere.  But  Stephen  will 
never  marry,  now,  I  fear.  She  who  gets 
him  will  be  lucky  —  he  is  a  very  tower  of 
strength  to  those  who  lean  on  him." 

"  As  far  as  strength  goes,  Max,  you 
could  pick  him  up  with  your  right  hand. 
It  may  be  silly,  but  I  do  love  your  size 
and  vigor ;  when  I  see  you  in  a  crowd  of 
average  men,  I  exult  in  you.  Imagine 


On          any  woman  who  could    get  you  wanting 
French-  a  thin,  sallow  person  like  Cranbrooke  !  " 
man's          "  He    can     be    fascinating,    when     he 
Bay         chooses,"  said  Max. 

"  The  best  thing  about  Cranbrooke, 
Max,  is  that  he  loves  you,"  answered  his 
wife,  wilfully. 

"  Then  I  want  you,  henceforth,  to  try 
to  like  him  better,  dear ;  to  like  him  for 
himself.  He  is  coming  in  answer  to  my 
urgent  request ;  and  I  feel  certain  the  more 
you  know  of  him,  the  more  you  will  trust 
in  him.  At  any  rate,  give  him  as  much  of 
your  dear  self  as  I  can  spare,  and  you  will 
be  sure  of  pleasing  me." 

"  Max,  now  I  believe  it  is  you  who  are 
crying  because  you  are  too  happy.  I 
never  heard  such  a  solemn  cadence  in  your 
voice.  I  don't  want  a  minute  of  this 
lovely  time  to  be  sad.  When  we  were  in 
town,  I  fancied  you  were  down  —  about 
something  ;  now,  you  are  yourself  again  ; 
let  me  be  happy  without  alloy.  I  am  de- 
termined to  be  the  cigale  of  the  French 
fable,  and  dance  and  sing  away  the  sum- 
mer. Between  us,  we  may  even  succeed 
in  making  that  sober  Cranbrooke  a  reflec- 


tion  of  us  both.     There,  now,  the  light  On 
has  faded ;  quicken  your  speed ;  we  must  French- 
go  ashore  and  meet  him.     See,  the  moon  man's 
has  risen  —  O  Max  darling,  to  please  me, 
paddle  in  that  silver  path  !  " 

This  was  the  Ethel  her  husband  liked 
best  to  see,  —  a  child  in  her  quick  varia- 
tions of  emotion,  a  woman  in  steadfast  ten- 
derness. Conquering  his  own  strongly  ex- 
cited feeling,  he  smiled  on  her  indulgently  ; 
and  when,  their  landing  reached,  Cran- 
brooke's  tall  form  was  descried  coming 
down  the  bridge  to  receive  them,  he  was 
able  to  greet  his  friend  with  an  unshad- 
owed face. 

The  three  went  in  to  dinner,  which 
Ethel,  taking  advantage  of  the  soft,  dry 
air,  had  ordered  to  be  served  in  a  loggia 
opening  upon  the  water.  The  butler,  a 
sympathetic  Swede,  had  decked  their  little 
round  table  with  wild  roses  in  shades  of 
shell-pink,  deepening  to  crimson.  The 
candles,  burning  under  pale-green  shades, 
were  scarcely  stirred  by  the  faint  breeze. 
Hard,  indeed,  to  believe  that,  upon  occa- 
sion, that  couchant  monster,  the  bay,  could 
break  up  into  huge  waves,  ramping  shore- 


On  ward,  leaping  over  the  rock  wall,  upon  the 
French-  lawn,  up  to  the  loggia  floor,  and  there 
man's  beat  for  admission  to  the  house,  upon 
Bay  storm-shutters  hastily  erected  to  meet  its 
onslaught ! 

To-night,  a  swinging  lantern  of  wrought 
iron  sent  down  through  its  panels  of  opal 
glass  a  gentle  illumination  upon  three  well- 
pleased  faces  gathered  around  the  dainty ' 
little  feast.  Ethel,  who,  in  the  days  of 
gipsying,  would  allow  no  toilets  of  cere- 
mony, retained  her  sailor-hat,  with  the 
boat-gown  of  white  serge,  in  which  her 
infantile  beauty  showed  to  its  best  advan- 
tage. Cranbrooke  was  dazzled  by  the 
new  bloom  upon  her  face,  the  new  light 
in  her  eye. 

Pollock,  too,  tall,  broad-shouldered, 
blonde,  clean-shaven  save  for  a  mus- 
tache, his  costume  of  white  flannel  enhanc- 
ing duly  the  transparent  healthiness  of  his 
complexion,  looked  wonderfully  well  —  so 
Cranbrooke  thought  and  said. 

"  Does  he  not  ? "  cried  Ethel,  exult- 
ingly.  "  I  knew  you  would  think  so. 
Max  has  been  reconstructed  since  we  have 
lived  outdoors  in  this  wonderful  air.  Just 


wait,  Mr.  Cranbrooke,  till  we  have  done  On 
with  you,  and  you,  too,  will  be  blossom-  French- 
ing  like  the  rose."  man's 

"  I,  that  was  a  desert,  you  would  say,"  Bay 
returned  Cranbrooke,  smiling.  Involun- 
tarily it  occurred  to  him  to  contrast  his 
own  outer  man  with  that  of  his  host. 
Somehow  or  other,  the  fond,  satisfied  look 
Ethel  bestowed  upon  her  lord  aroused 
anew  in  their  friend  an  old,  teasing  spirit 
of  envy  of  nature's  bounty  to  another, 
denied  to  him. 

As  the  moon  transmuted  to  silver  the 
stretch  of  water  east  of  them,  and  the  three 
sat  over  the  table,  with  its  carafes  and  de- 
canters and  egg-shell  coffee-cups,  till  the 
flame  of  a  cigar-lighter  died  utterly  in  its 
silver  beak,  their  talk  touching  all  subjects 
pleasantly,  Cranbrooke  persuaded  himself 
he  had  indeed  been  dreaming  a  bad 
dream.  The  journey  thither,  of  which 
every  mile  had  been  like  the  link  of  a 
chain,  was,  for  him,  after  all,  a  mere  essay 
at  pleasure-seeking.  He  had  come  on  to 
spend  a  jolly  holiday  with  a  couple  of  the 
nicest  people  in  the  world  —  nothing  more ! 
His  fancies,  his  plans,  his  devices,  con- 

['7'] 


On          ceived  in  sore  distress  of  spirit,  were  rele- 

French-  gated    to  the  world  of  shadows,  whence 

man's      they  had  been  summoned. 

Bay  When  Ethel  left  the  two  men  for  the 

night,  and  the  butler  came  out  to  collect 
his  various  belongings,  Pollock  rose  and 
bade  Cranbrooke  accompany  him  to  see 
the  mountains  from  the  other  side  of  the 
house.  Here,  turning  their  backs  on  the 
enchantment  of  the  water  view,  they  looked 
up  at  an  amphitheatre  of  hills,  dominated 
in  turn  by  rocky  summits  gleaming  in  the 
moon.  But  for  the  lap  of  the  water  upon 
the  coast,  the  stir  of  a  fresh  wind  arising 
to  whisper  to  the  leaves  of  a  clump  of 
birches,  Mother  Earth  around  them  was 
keeping  silent  vigil. 

"  What  a  perfect  midsummer  night !  " 
said  Cranbrooke,  drawing  a  deep  breath  of 
enjoyment.  "  After  the  heat  and  dust  of 
that  three  hundred  miles  of  railway  jour- 
ney from  Boston,  this  is  a  reward  !  " 

"  We  chose  better  than  we  knew  the 
scene  of  my  euthanasia,"  answered  Pol- 
lock, without  a  tremor  in  his  voice. 

A  thrill  ran  through  Cranbrooke's  veins. 
He  could  have  sworn  the  air  had  suddenly 


become  chill,  as  if  an  iceberg  had  floated  On 
into  the  bay.      He  tried  to  respond,  and  French- 
found    himself   babbling  words    of   weak  man's 
conventionality ;  and  all  the  while  the  soul  Bay 
of  the  strong  man  within  him  was  saying : 
"  It  must  not  be.     It  shall  not  be.     If  I 
live,  I  shall  rescue  you  from  this  ghastly 
phantom." 

"  Don't  think  it  necessary  to  give  words 
to  what  you  feel  for  me,"  said  Pollock, 
smiling  slightly.  "  You  are  not  making  a 
brilliant  success  of  it,  old  man,  and  you  'd 
better  stop.  And  don't  suppose  I  mean  to 
continue  to  entertain  my  guest  by  lugubri- 
ous discussions  of  my  approaching  finale. 
Only,  it  is  necessary  that  you  should  know 
several  things,  since  the  event  may  take 
us  unawares.  I  have  made  you  my  execu- 
tor, and  Ethel  gets  all  there  is;  that's  the 
long  and  short  of  my  will,  properly  signed, 
attested,  and  deposited  with  my  lawyer  be- 
fore I  left  town.  Ethel's  mother  and  sis- 
ters will  be  returning  to  Newport  in  a 
fortnight,  and  they  will,  no  doubt,  come 
to  the  poor  child  when  she  needs  them. 
There  must  be  some  compensation  for  a 
decree  of  this  kind,  and  I  have  it  in  the 

['73} 


On          absolute   bliss    I   have   enjoyed   since   we 

French-  came  here.     That  child-wife  of  mine  is 

man's      the  most  enchanting  creature  in  the  world. 

Bay         If  I  were    not    steeped    in   selfishness,  I 

could  wish  she  loved  me  a  little  less.     But 

all  emotions  pass,  and  even   Ethel's  tears 

will  dry." 

"  Good  Heaven,  Max,  you  are  talking 
like  a  machine  !  One  would  think  this 
affair  of  yours  certain.  Who  are  you,  to 
dare  to  penetrate  the  mystery  of  the  de- 
crees of  your  Maker  —  " 

"  None  of  that,  if  you  please,  Cran- 
brooke,"  interrupted  Pollock ;  "  I  have 
fought  every  inch  of  the  way  along  there, 
by  myself,  and  have  been  conquered  by 
my  conviction.  Did  I  tell  you  that  my 
father,  before  me,  struggled  with  similar 
remonstrances  from  his  friends  ?  The  par- 
sons even  brought  bell  and  book  to  exor- 
cise his  tormentor  —  and  all  in  vain.  He 
was  snuffed  out  in  full  health,  as  I  shall  be, 
and  why  should  I  whine  at  following  him  ? 
Come,  my  dear  fellow,  I  am  keeping  you 
out  of  a  capital  bed,  from  sleep  you  must 
require.  There 's  but  one  matter  in 
which  you  can  serve  me,  —  take  Ethel 


into   your   care.     Win   her  fullest  confi-  On 
dence ;   let  her  know  that  when  I  am  not   French- 
there^  you  will  be."  man's 

Cranbrooke  went  to  his  room,  but  not  Bay 
to  rest.     When  his  friends  next  saw  him, 
he  was    returning  from    a  solitary  cruise 
about  the   bay  in  a  catboat  Pollock  kept 
at  anchor  near  their  wharf. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Cranbrooke  !  "  cried  Ethel, 
lightly.  "The  boatman  says  you  have 
been  out  ever  since  daybreak.  But  that 
we  espied  the  boat  tacking  about  beyond 
that  far  rock,  I  should  have  been  for  send- 
ing in  search  of  you." 

"  Cranbrooke  is  an  accomplished  sailor," 
said  Max.  "  But  just  now,  breakfast 's 
the  thing  for  him,  Ethel.  See  that  he  is 
well  fed,  while  I  stroll  out  to  the  stable 
and  look  after  the  horses." 

As  he  crossed  the  greensward,  Ethel's 
gaze  followed  him,  till  he  disappeared  be- 
hind a  clump  of  trees.  Then  she  turned 
to  her  guest. 

"  Let  me  serve  you  with  all  there  is, 
until  they  bring  you  something  hot,"  she 
said,  with  her  usual  half-flippant  consider- 
ation of  him.  "  Do  you  know  you  look 

['75] 


On          very  seedy  ?     I  have,  for  my  part,  no  pa- 
French-  tience  with  these  early  morning  exploits." 
mans          "  If   you    could    have   seen   the   world 
Bay         awakening  as  I  saw  it,  this  morning,  you 
would  condone  my  offence,"  he  answered, 
a  curious   expression    Ethel    thought   she 
had  detected  in  his  eyes  leaving  them  un- 
clouded, as  he  spoke. 


Chapter    III 

NO    one   who    knew   Stephen   Cran-  On 
brooke  well   could  say  he  did  any-  Frencb- 
thing   by  halves.      In   the   days   that  fol-  man's 
lowed   his  arrival  at  Mount  Desert,  Max  Bay 
Pollock    saw  that   his   friend  was    lending 
every    effort   to   the   task   of   establishing 
friendly  relations  with  his  wife.      From  her 
first     half-petulant,     half-cordial     manner 
with  him,  —  the  manner  of  a  woman  who 
tries  to  please  her  husband  by  recognition 
of  the  claim  of  his  nearest  male  intimate, 
—  Ethel  had  passed  to  the  degree  of  man- 
ifestly welcoming  Cranbrooke's  presence, 
both  when  with  her  husband  and  without 
him. 

As  Max  saw  this  growing  friendship,  he 
strove  to  increase  it  by  absenting  himself 
from  Ethel,  instead  of,  as  heretofore, 
spending  every  hour  he  could  wring  from 
the  society  of  other  folk,  in  the  light  of 
her  smiles.  His  one  wish  that  Ethel 

['77] 


On  might  be  insensibly  led  to  find  another 
French-  than  himself  companionable ;  that  she 
man's  might  be,  though  never  so  little,  weaned 
Bay  from  her  absolute  dependence  upon  him  for 
daily  happiness,  before  the  blow  fell  that 
was  to  plunge  her  in  darkest  night,  kept 
him  content  in  these  acts  of  self-sacrifice. 
But,  as  was  inevitable,  his  manner 
toward  them  both  underwent  a  trifling 
change.  His  old  buoyancy  of  affection 
was  succeeded  by  a  quiet,  at  times  wistful, 
recognition  of  the  fact  that  his  friend  and 
his  wife  had  now  found  another  interest 
besides  himself.  But  he  was  proud  to  see 
Cranbrooke  had  justified  his  boast  that  he 
"  could  be  fascinating  when  he  chose  ; " 
and  he  was  glad  to  think  Cranbrooke  at 
last  realized  the  charm  Ethel,  apparently 
a  mere  bright  bubble  upon  the  tide  of  so- 
ciety, had  to  a  man  of  intellect  and  heart. 
"  It  was  as  I  said,"  the  poor  fellow  re- 
peated to  himself,  trying  to  find  comfort 
in  the  realization  of  his  prescience ;  and 
when  Ethel,  alone  with  him,  would  break 
into  paeans  of  his  friend,  and  wonder  how 
she  could  have  been  so  blind  to  the  "  real 
man  "  before,  Max  answered  her  loyally 


that  his  highest  wish  for  both  of  them  was  On 

at  last  gratified.  French- 

Then    the   day  came  when    there  was  man's 
question   of  a  companion   for  Ethel  in  a  Bay 
sailing-party  to  which  she  had  accepted  an 
invitation  —  and    for    Max    was    destined 
an  emotion  something  like  distaste. 

They  were  sitting  over  the  breakfast 
table,  —  a  meal  no  longer  exclusive  to 
wife  and  husband,  as  had  been  agreed,  but 
shared  by  Cranbrooke  with  due  regularity, 

—  when  Ethel  broached  the  subject. 

"  You  know,  Max,  I  was  foolish  enough 
to  promise  that  irresistible  Mrs.  Clayton 

—  when   she   would   not    take  no   for  an 
answer,  yesterday,  —  that  some  of  us  would 
join  her  water  party  to-day.     It  is  to  be 
an    idle   cruise,    with    no   especial  aim  — 
luncheon  on  board  their  schooner-yacht ; 
the  sort  of  thing  I  knew  would  bore  you 
to  extinction  —  being  huddled  up  with  the 
same  people  half  the  day." 

"It  is  the  opening  wedge  —  if  you  go 
to  this,  you  will  be  booked  for  others, 
that's  all,"  said  Max,  preparing  to  say,  in 
a  martyrized  way,  that  he  would  accom- 
pany her,  if  she  liked. 


On  "  Oh,  I  knew  you  would  feel  that ;  and 

French-  so  I  told   her  she  must  really  excuse  my 
man's      husband,  but  that    I    had  no  doubt    Mr. 
Bay         Cranbrooke  would  accept  with  pleasure. 
You  see,  Mr.  Cranbrooke,  what  polite  in- 
accuracies you  are  pledged  by  friendship 
to  sustain." 

"  I  will  go  with  pleasure,"  Stephen  said, 
with  what  Max  thought  almost  unneces- 
sary readiness. 

"  Bravo  !  "  cried  Ethel.  "  This  is  the 
hero's  spirit.  And  so,  Max  dear,  you 
will  have  a  long  day  to  yourself  while  I 
am  experimenting  in  fashionable  pleasur- 
ing, and  Mr.  Cranbrooke  is  representing 
you  in  keeping  an  eye  on  me." 

"  You  will,  of  course,  be  at  home  to 
dinner  ?  "  said  her  husband. 

"  Surely.  Unless  breezes  betray  us,  and 
we  are  driven  to  support  exhausted  nature 
upon  hardtack  and  champagne ;  for,  of 
course,  all  of  the  Claytons'  luncheon  will 
be  eaten  up,  and  there  are  no  stores  aboard 
a  craft  like  that.  Will  you  order  the 
buckboard  for  ten,  dear  ?  We  rendezvous 
at  the  boat-wharf.  And,  as  there  is  no 
telling  when  we  shall  be  in,  don't  trouble 


to  send  to  meet  me.     Mr.  Cranbrooke  and  On 

I  will  pick  up  a  trap  to  return  in."  Frtncb- 

Max  saw  them  off  in  the  buckboard  ;  man's 
and,  as   Ethel   turned   at  some  little  dis-   Bay 
tance  and  looked  back  at  him,  where  he 
still  stood  on  the  gravel  before  their  vine- 
wreathed  portal,  waving  her  hand  with  a 
charming  grace,  then  settling  again  to  a 
tete-a-tete  with  Cranbrooke,  he  felt  vaguely 
resentful  at  being  left  behind. 

The  clear,  dazzling  atmosphere,  the 
sense  of  youthful  vitality  in  his  being, 
made  him  repel  the  idea  of  exclusion  from 
any  function  of  the  animated  world.  He 
almost  thought  Ethel  should  have  given 
him  a  chance  to  say  whether  or  no  he 
would  accompany  her.  Was  it  not,  upon 
her  part,  even  a  little  bit  —  a  very  little  bit, 
lacking  in  proper  wifely  feeling,  to  be  so 
prompt  in  dispensing  with  his  society,  to 
accept  that  of  others  for  a  whole,  long, 
bright  summer's  day  of  pleasuring  ? 

This  suggestion  he  put  away  from  him 
as  quickly  as  it  came.  He  was  like  a 
spoiled  child,  he  said  to  himself,  who  does 
not  expect  to  be  taken  at  his  word.  Ethel 
well  knew  his  dislike  of  gossiping  groups 


On  of  idle  people ;  equally  well  she  remem- 
French-  bered,  no  doubt,  his  frequent  requests  that 
man's  she  would  mingle  more  with  the  world, 
Bay  take  more  pleasure  on  her  own  account. 
And  Cranbrooke, — dear  old  Cranbrooke, 

—  of  course  he  was  ready  to  punish  himself 
by  going  off  on  such  a  party,  when  it  was 
an  opportunity  to  serve  his  friend  ! 

So  Max  put  his  discontent  away,  and, 
mounting  his  horse,  went  off  alone  for  a 
ride  half  around  the  island,  lunching  at 
Northeast  Harbor,  and  returning,  through 
devious  ways,  by  nightfall. 

Restored  to  healthy  enjoyment  of  all 
things  by  his  day  in  the  saddle,  he  turned 
into  the  avenue  leading  to  their  house, 
buoyed  up  by  the  sweet  hope  of  Ethel 
returned  —  Ethel  on  the  watch  for  him. 
Already,  he  saw  in  fancy  the  gleam  of  her 
jaunty  white  yachting-costume  between 
the  tubs  of  flowering  hydrangeas  ranged 
on  either  side  the  walk  before  their  door. 
The  lamps  inside  —  the  "  home  lights,"  of 
which  she  had  once  fondly  spoken  to  him 

—  were  already  lighted.     She  would,  per- 
haps, be  worrying  at  his  delay.     He  quick- 
ened his  speed,  and  rode  down  the  avenue 


to  the  house  at  a  brisk  trot.     The  groom,  On 
who,  from  the  stable,  had  heard  the  horse's  Frtntk- 
feet,  started  up  out  of  the  shrubbery  to  matft 
meet  him.      But  there  was  no  other  indi-  Bay 
cation  of  a  watch  upon  the  movements  of 
the  master  of  the  house. 

"Mrs.  Pollock  has  not  returned, then  ?  " 
he  asked,  conscious  of  blankness  in  his 
tone. 

"  No,  sir ;  not  yet.  Our  orders  were, 
not  to  send  for  her,  sir,  as  there  was  no 
knowing  when  the  party  would  get  in." 

"  Yes,  the  breeze  has  pretty  much  died 
out  since  sunset,"  said  Pollock,  endeavor- 
ing to  mask  his  disappointment  by  com- 
monplace. 

He  went  indoors ;  and  the  house,  care- 
fully arranged  though  it  was,  with  flowers 
and  furniture  disposed  by  expert  hands  to 
greet  the  returning  of  the  master,  seemed 
to  him  dull  and  chill.  He  ordered  a  cup 
of  tea  for  himself,  and,  bending  down,  put 
a  match  to  the  little  fire  of  birch-wood 
always  kept  laid  upon  the  hearth  of  their 
picturesque  hall  sitting-room. 

In  a  moment,  the  curling  wreathes  of 
pale  azure  that  arose  upon  the  pyre  of 


On          silvery-barked   logs   was   succeeded   by   a 

French-  generous    flame.       The    peculiarly   sweet 

man's      flavor  of  the  burning  birch  was  distilled 

Say         upon  the  air.     Sipping  the  cup  of  tea,  as 

he  stood  in  his  riding-clothes  before  the 

fire,  Max  felt  a  consoling  warmth  invade 

his  members  and  expand  his  heart. 

"  They  will  be  in  directly,"  he  said ; 
"  and,  by  George,  I  shall  be  as  ready  for 
my  dinner  as  they  for  theirs." 

In  one  corner  of  the  hall  stood  a  tall, 
slender-necked  vase,  where  he  had  that 
morning  watched  Ethel  arranging  a  sheaf 
of  goldenrod  with  brown-seeded  marsh- 
grasses, —  a  combination  her  touch  had 
made  individual  and  artistic  to  a  striking 
degree.  He  recalled  how,  as  she  had  fin- 
ished it,  she  looked  around,  calling  him 
and  Stephen  from  their  newspapers  to  ad- 
mire her  handiwork.  He,  the  husband, 
had  admired  it  lazily  from  his  divan  of 
cushions  in  the  corner.  Cranbrooke  had 
gone  over  to  stand  beside  his  hostess,  and 
thence  they  had  passed,  still  in  close  con- 
versation, out  to  the  grassy  terrace  above 
the  sea. 

Now,    why     should     this     recollection 


awaken  in  Max  Pollock  a  new  sense  of  On 
the  feeling  he  had  been  doing  his  best  to  French- 
dispose  of  all  day  ?      He  could  not  say  ;  man's 
but  there  it  was,  to  prick  him  with  its  in-  Bay 
visible  sting.     Then,  too,  the  dinner-hour 
was  past,  and  he  was  hungry. 

He  went  out  upon  the  veranda  at  the 
rear,  and  surveyed  the  expanse  of  water. 
Far  off,  between  the  electric  ball  that  hung 
over  the  wharf  of  the  village,  and  the  point 
of  Bar  Island,  opposite,  he  saw  a  bridge  of 
lights  from  yachts  of  all  sorts,  with  which 
the  harbor  was  now  full.  He  fancied  a 
little  moving  star  of  light,  that  seemed  to 
creep  beneath  the  large  ones,  might  be  the 
Claytons'  boat  on  her  return,  and,  after 
another  interval  of  watching,  called  up  a 
wharf  authority  by  telephone,  and  asked 
if  the  Lorelei  was  in. 

"  Not  yet,  sir,"  was  the  reply.  "  Prob- 
ably caught  out  when  the  wind  fell.  Will 
let  you  know  the  minute  they  are  in  sight." 
With  which  assurance  Mr.  Pollock  was 
finally  driven  by  the  pangs  of  natural  appe- 
tite to  sit  down  alone  to  a  cheerless  meal. 

There  was  a  message  by  telephone,  as 
he  finished  his  repast.  The  Lorelei  was 


On          i^,  :ind  Mrs.  Pollock  desired  to  speak  with 

French-  he    luasband. 

man's          "  \  ""  -  're  all  right,"  Ethel's  voice  said, 

Bay  "and  1  hope  you  haven't  been  worried. 
They  insist  on  our  going  to  dinner  at  a 
restaurant,  and,  of  course,  you  understand, 
I  can't  spoil  the  fun  by  refusing.  Couldn't 
you  come  down  and  meet  us  ?  " 

His  first  impulse  was  to  say  yes ;  but  a 
second  thought  withheld  him.  He  gave 
her  a  pleasant  answer,  however,  bidding 
her  enjoy  herself  without  thought  of  him, 
and  adding :  "  Cranbrooke  will  look  out 
for  you  and  bring  you  home." 

It  was  quite  ten  o'clock  when  they  ar- 
rived at  the  cottage,  Ethel  in  high  spirits, 
flushed  with  the  excitement  of  a  merry 
day,  full  of  chatter  over  people  and  things 
Max  had  no  interest  in,  appealing  to 
Cranbrooke  to  enjoy  her  retrospects  with 
her.  She  was  "  awfully  sorry "  about 
having  kept  Max  from  his  dinner ;  "  aw- 
fully sorry  "  not  to  have  come  home  at 
once,  but  there  was  no  getting  out  of 
the  impromptu  dinner ;  and,  of  course, 
they  had  to  wait  for  it ;  and  she  was 


the  first,  after  dinner,  to  ma  _•  On 

to  go ;    Mr.  Cranbrooke  woui.  .ry  to  French- 

that.  man's 

"  I  don't  need  any  certification,  dear,"  Bay 
said  Max,  gently ;  but  he  did  not  smile. 
Cranbrooke,  who  sat  with  him  after  sleepy 
Ethel  had  retired  from  the  scene,  felt  his 
heart  wrung  at  thought  of  certain  things 
that  never  entered  into  Ethel's  little  head. 
But  he  made  no  effort  to  dispel  the  cloud 
that  had  settled  over  his  friend's  face. 

By  and  by,  Cranbrooke,  too,  said  good- 
night, and  went  off  into  his  wing,  and  Max 
was  left  alone  with  his  cigar. 

The  day  on  the  water  had  verified 
Max's  prediction  that  it  would  prove  "  an 
opening  wedge."  Ethel,  caught  in  the 
tide  of  the  season's  gaieties,  found  herself 
impelled  from  one  entertainment  to  the 
other ;  their  cottage  was  invaded  by  call- 
ers, their  little  informal  dinners  were 
transformed  into  banquets  of  ceremony,  as 
choice  and  more  lively  than  those  of  their 
conventional  life  in  town.  The  only  per- 
sons really  satisfied  by  the  change  of  hab- 
its in  the  house  were  the  servants,  who. 


On          like  all  artists,  require  a  public  to  set  the 

French-  seal  upon  their  worth. 

man's  Max,  bewildered,  found  himself  some- 

Bay  times  accompanying  his  wife  to  her  par- 
ties ;  oftener  —  struck  with  the  ghastly 
inappropriateness  of  his  presence  in  such 
haunts — stopping  at  home  and  deputing 
to  Cranbrooke  the  escort  of  his  wife.  Xo 
his  surprise,  he  perceived  that  Cranbrooke 
was  not  only  ready,  but  eager,  on  all  occa- 
sions, to  carry  Ethel  away  from  him.  But 
then,  of  course,  this  was  precisely  what 
he  had  wished. 

And  Ethel,  who  lost  no  opportunity  to 
tell  Max  how  "  good,"  how  "  lovely," 
Cranbrooke  had  been  to  her,  was  she  not 
carrying  out  to  the  letter  her  husband's 
wishes  ?  He  observed,  moreover,  that 
Ethel  was  even  more  impressed  than  he 
had  expected  her  to  be  with  that  quality 
of"  fascination."  Cranbrookc's  mind  was 
like  a  beautiful  new  country  into  which 
she  was  making  excursions,  she  said  once ; 
and  Max,  after  a  moment's  hesitation, 
agreed  with  her  very  warmly. 

At  last,  Maxwell  Pollock  awoke  one 
morning,  with  a  start  of  disagreeable  con- 


sciousness,to  the  fact  that  this  was  the  eve  On 
of  his  thirtieth  birthday.     Occupied  as  he  French- 
had  been  with  various  thoughts  that  had  to  man's 
do    with   his    transient    relations    to    this  Bay 
sublunary  sphere,  he  had  actually  allowed 
himself  to  lose  sight  of  the  swift  approach 
of  his  day  of  doom.      Now,  he  arose,  took 
his  bath,  dressed,  and  without  arousing  his 
wife,  who,  in   the  room   adjoining,  slept 
profoundly  after  a  gay  dance    overnight, 
went  alone  to  the  waterside,  with  the  in- 
tention of  going  out  in  his  canoe. 

Early  as  he  was,  Cranbrooke  was  be- 
fore him,  carrying  the  canoe  upon  his 
head,  moving  after  the  fashion  of  some 
queer  shelled-creature  down  to  the  float. 

Max  realized,  with  a  sense  of  keen  self- 
rebuke,  that  the  spectacle  of  his  friend 
was  repellant  to  him,  and  the  prospect  of 
a  talk  alone  with  Stephen  on  this  occa- 
sion, the  last  thing  he  would  have  chosen. 

And — evidently  a  part  of  the  latter- 
day  revolution  of  affairs  —  Cranbrooke 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  that  this  day 
meant  more  than  another  to  Pollock.  He 
greeted  him  cheerily,  in  commonplace 
terms,  commented  on  their  identity  of 
[rfp] 


On          fancy  in  the  matter  of  a  paddle  at  sunrise, 

French-  and  offered  to  relinquish  the  craft  in  favor 

man's      of  its  owner. 

Bay  "  Of  course  not.     Get  in,  will   you," 

said  Max,  throwing  off  his  coat ;  and,  tak- 
ing one  of  the  paddles,  while  Cranbrooke 
plied  the  other,  their  swift,  even  strokes 
soon  carried  them  far  over  toward  the 
illuminated  east. 

When  well  out  upon  the  bay,  they 
paused  to  watch  the  red  coming  of  the 
sun.  Beautiful  with  matin  freshness  was 
the  sleeping  world  around  them;  and,  in- 
spired by  the  scene,  Max,  who  was  kneel- 
ing in  the  bow,  turned  to  exclaim  to 
Cranbrooke,  with  his  old,  hearty  voice, 
upon  the  reward  coming  to  early  risers  in 
such  surroundings. 

"  Jove,  a  man  feels  born  again  when  he 
breathes  air  like  this  !  " 

Cranbrooke  started.  It  was  almost  be- 
yond hope  that  Max  should  use  such  a 
phrase,  in  such  accents,  at  such  a  juncture. 
Immediately,  however,  the  exhilaration 
died  out  of  Pollock's  manner ;  and,  again 
turning  away  his  face,  he  showed  that  his 
thoughts  had  reverted  to  the  old  sore  spot. 
[jpo] 


He  did  not  see  the  expression  of  almost  On 
womanly  yearning  in    Cranbrooke's   face  Frencb- 
when  the  certainty  of  this  was  fixed  upon  man's 
his  anxious  mind.  Bay 

The  two  men  talked  little,  and  of  casual 
things  only,  while  abroad.  As  they  re- 
turned to  the  house,  Cranbrooke  made  a 
movement  as  if  to  speak  out  something 
burning  upon  his  tongue,  and  then,  re- 
pressing it,  walked  with  hasty  strides  to 
his  own  apartment. 

The  day  passed  as  had  done  those  im- 
mediately preceding  it.  Calls,  a  party  of 
guests  at  luncheon,  a  drive,  absorbed 
Ethel's  hours  from  her  husband.  When 
she  reached  home,  at  tea-time,  he  had 
come  in  from  riding,  and  was  standing 
alone  in  the  hall,  awaiting  her. 

"  How  nice  to  find  you  here  alone  !  " 
she  cried,  going  up  to  kiss  him,  and  then 
taking  her  place  behind  the  tea-tray. 
"  Do  sit  down,  and  let  us  imagine  we  are 
back  in  those  dear  old  days  before  we 
were  overpowered  by  outsiders.  Never 
mind  !  The  rush  will  soon  be  over;  we 
shall  be  to  ourselves  again,  you  and  I  and 
—  how  stupid  I  am  !  "  she  added,  coloring. 

[*?'] 


On          "  You  and  I,  I  mean,  for  he  must  go  back 

French-  to  town." 

man  3          "  You  mean  Cranbrooke  ?  "  he  said,  as 

Bay  she  thought,  absent-mindedly,  but  in  real- 
ity with  something  like  a  cold  hand  upon 
his  heart,  that  for  a  moment  gave  him  a 
sense  of  physical  apprehension.  Had  it 
come,  he  wondered  ? 

But  no,  this  was  not  physical ;  this  was 
a  shock  of  purely  emotional  displeasure. 
Could  he  believe  his  ears,  that  Ethel,  his 
wife,  had  indeed  blended  another  than 
himself  with  her  dream  of  returning  sol- 
itude ? 

"  Yes,  it  will  be  all  over  soon,"  he  said, 
mechanically.  "  Had  you  a  pleasant 
drive  ?  And  did  you  enjoy  the  box-seat 
with  Egmont  ? " 

"  Oh  !  Egmont,  fortunately,  can  drive 
—  if  he  cant  talk,"  she  answered,  lightly. 
"  I  suppose  I  am  fastidious,  or  else  spoiled 
for  the  conversation  of  ordinary  men,  after 
what  I  have  had  recently  from  Cranbrooke. 
By  the  way,  Max  dear,  are  you  relentless 
against  going  with  us  to-night,  to  the  fete 
at  the  canoe  club  ?  You  need  n't  go  in- 


side  the  club-house,  you  know.      It  will   On 

be  lovely  to  look  at,  from  the  water."          Frenck- 

"  With  us  ?     Then  Cranbrooke  has  al-  man1 3 
ready  promised  ?  "  Bay 

"  Yes,  of  course ;  he  could  not  leave 
me  in  the  lurch,  could  he,  when  my  hus- 
band is  such  an  obstinate  recluse  ?  " 

"  And  how  do  you  intend  to  get  there  ? " 

"  By  water,  stupid,  of  course ;  how 
else  ?  I  will  be  satisfied  with  the  row- 
boat,  if  you  won't  trust  me  in  the  canoe  ; 
but  Mr.  Cranbrooke  is  such  an  expert 
with  the  paddle,  I  should  n't  think  you 
would  object  to  letting  me  go  with  him. 
It  will  be  perfectly  smooth  water,  and  the 
air  is  so  mild.  Do  say  I  may  go  in  the 
canoe,  dear  ;  it 's  twice  the  fun." 

"  I  think  you  know  that,  unless  I  take 
you,  it  is  my  wish  you  go  nowhere  at  night 
in  a  canoe,"  he  answered,  coldly. 

Ethel  was  more  hurt  at  his  tone  than 
disappointed  by  his  refusal.  She  could  not 
think  what  had  come  over  her  husband, 
of  late,  so  often  had  this  constrained  man- 
ner presented  itself  to  her  advance.  She 
set  it  down  to  her  unwonted  indulgence 


On  in  society,  and  promised  herself,  with  a 
French-  sigh  of  relinquishment,  that,  after  this 
man's  summer,  she  would  go  back  to  her  life 
Bay  lived  for  Max  alone. 

Then,  Cranbrooke  coming  in  with  two 
or  three  visitors,  who  lingered  till  almost 
dinner-time  and  were  persuaded  easily  to 
stop  for  dinner,  there  was  no  chance  to 
indulge  in  meditations,  penitential  or  other- 
wise. When  her  guests  took  their  de- 
parture, it  was  in  the  little  steam-launch, 
she  and  Cranbrooke  accompanying  the 
party,  and  all  bound  for  the  fete,  to  be 
given  on  a  wooded  island  in  the  bay.  As 
they  were  leaving  the  house,  something 
impelled  her  to  run  back  and,  in  the  semi- 
darkness  of  the  veranda,  seek  her  hus- 
band's side. 

"  Max  darling,  kiss  me  good-by.  Or, 
if  you  want  me,  let  me  stay  with  you." 

"  No,  no ;  I  want  you  to  enjoy  every 
moment  while  you  can,"  he  said,  with- 
drawing from  her  gaze  to  the  shadow  of 
a  vine-wreathed  column. 

"  Max,  your  voice  is  strange.  And 
once,  at  dinner,  I  saw  you  looking  at  me, 
and  there  was  something  in  your  eyes  that 


frightened  me.     If  you  had  n't  smiled,  and  On 
lifted  your  glass  to  pledge  me,  I  should  French- 
not  have  known  what  to  think."  mans 

"  Ethel !  Wife  !   Do  you  love  me  ?  "  he   Bay 
said,  catching  her  to  his  heart. 

"  Max  !  Why,  Max  !  You  foolish  boy, 
we  shall  be  seen." 

"  Tell  me,  and  J  iss  me  once  more,  my 
own,  my  own  !  " 

"  They  are  all  aboard  except  you,  Mrs. 
Pollock,"  a  voice  said  ;  and,  from  the  dew 
of  the  lawn,  Cranbrooke  stepped  upon  the 
veranda. 

Max  started  violently,  and  let  his  wife 
go  from  his  embrace. 

"  You  see  how  rude  you  are  making  me 
toward  our  guests,"  said  Ethel.  "  You 
have  my  wrap,  Mr.  Cranbrooke  ?  Good- 
night, Max ;  and  to-morrow  I  '11  tell  you 
all  about  it.  Better  change  your  mind 
and  come  after  us,  though." 

"  Max  need  not  trouble  to  do  so,"  put 
in  Cranbrooke,  in  a  muffled  voice.  "  As 
usual,  I  will  fill  his  place." 

Max  thought  he  almost  hurried  her 
away.  They  went  down  the  slope  of  the 
lawn  together ;  and,  at  the  steep  descent 


On          leading  to  the  bridge,  he  saw  Ethel  stum- 

French-  ble,  and  Cranbrooke  throw  his  arm  around 

man's      her  to  steady  her. 

Bay  And  now,  a  passion  took  possession  of 

Maxwell  Pollock's  being  that  impelled 
him  to  the  impetuous  action  of  following 
them  to  the  wharf,  and  gesticulating 
madly  after  the  swift  little  steamer  that 
bore  them  away  from  him. 

"  He  dared  take  her,  did  he,  when  she 
would  have  stayed  at  a  word  from  me  ?  I 
see  all,  now.  Specious,  false,  damnably 
false,  he  has  snared  her  fancy  in  his  net. 
But  she  loves  me,  I  '11  swear  she  loves  me, 
and  I  '11  snatch  her  from  him,  if  it  is  with 
the  last  effort  of  my  strength.  Is  there 
time  ?  Well,  what  is  to  come,  let  it  come  ! 
While  there  's  life  in  me,  she  is  mine." 

A  moment,  and  he  was  afloat  in  the 
canoe,  no  sign  of  weakness  in  his  power- 
ful stroke  with  the  paddle,  no  thought  in 
his  brain  but  the  one  intense  determination 
of  the  male  creature  to  wrest  his  beloved 
from  the  hands  of  his  rival. 

Every  one  conceded  this  to  be  quite  the 
prettiest  and  most  taking  event  of  the  sea- 
- 


son.  The  rustic  club-house,  its  peaked  On 
gable  and  veranda  defined  with  strings  of  French- 
colored  lanterns,  sent  forth  the  music  of  a  man's 
band,  while  to  its  portal  trooped  maidens  Bay 
and  cavaliers,  landing  at  the  wharf  from 
every  variety  of  craft.  The  woods  be- 
hind were  linked  with  chains  of  light,  the 
shore  below  lit  with  bonfires,  and  more 
evanescent  eruptions  of  many-hued  fire- 
works. Rockets  hissed  through  the  air, 
and  broke  in  a  rain  of  violet,  green,  and 
crimson  meteors,  till  the  zenith  was  a  tan- 
gled mesh  made  by  the  trails  of  them  ;  fire- 
balloons  arose  and  were  lost  among  the 
stars ;  little  fire-boats,  launched  from  ves- 
sels stocked  for  the  purpose,  bore  their 
blazing  cargoes  out  upon  the  tide ;  other 
unnamed  monsters  were  let  loose  to  carry 
apparent  destruction  zigzag  through  the 
waves.  Every  attendant  yacht,  sloop, 
launch,  rowboat,  or  canoe,  with  which  the 
water  about  the  island  was  covered,  carried 
quaint  decoration  in  the  guise  of  Chinese 
lanterns.  Some  of  the  smaller  boats  were 
arched  with  these ;  others  tossed  bouquets 
of  fiery  bubbles  into  the  air.  Creeping 
about  at  a  snail's  pace  among  the  crowded 

['97] 


On          boats,  invisible  canoes  carried  silent  pas- 

French-  sengers ;  an  occasional  "  oh  !  "  of  excla- 

man's      mation  at  the  beauty  of  the  scene,  the  only 

Bay        contribution  people  felt  inclined  to  make 

to  conversation.     It  was  a  pageant  of  be- 

dazzlement,  as  if  witches,  gnomes,  spirits 

of   earth,  air,  and    the    underworld,    had 

mingled    their   resources   to   enchant   the 

eyes  of  mortals.     And  over  all,  sailed  the 

lady-moon  serenely,  forgotten,  but  sure  that 

her  time  would  come  again. 

Max  found  his  launch  without  diffi- 
culty, on  the  outer  circle  of  the  amphi- 
theatre of  light.  As  he  had  divined,  it 
was  empty,  save  for  the  two  boatmen. 

"  The  ladies  went  ashore,  sir,"  one  of 
his  men  said,  in  answer  to  his  inquiry. 
"  All  but  Mrs.  Pollock,  sir." 

"  Mrs.  Pollock  ?  Where  is  she,  then  ?  " 
he  asked,  briefly. 

"  She  took  our  rowboat,  sir,  and  went 
off"  on  the  water  with  one  of  the  gentle- 
men. Mr.  Cranbrooke,  I  think  it  was; 
and  they  ordered  us  to  wait  just  here. 
No  good  going  ashore,  sir,  if  you  want  to 
see.  It 's  better  from  this  point,  even,  than 
nearer  in." 


"  Very  well,"  said  the  master,  and  at  On 
once  his  canoe  moved  off  to  be  lost  in  the  French- 
crowd.  man's 

He  had  sought  for  them  in  vain,  peer-  Bay 
ing  into  all  the  small  boats  whenever  the 
flash-light  of  the  rockets,  or  the  catharine- 
wheels  on  the  coast,  lit  the  scene.  Many 
a  tender  interlude  was  thus  revealed ;  but 
of  the  two  people  he  now  longed  with  the 
fever  of  madness  to  discover,  he  saw 
nothing. 

At  last,  in  a  burst  from  a  candle  rocket, 
there  was  a  glimpse  of  Ethel's  red  boat- 
cloak,  her  bare,  golden  head  rising  above 
it.  She  was  sitting  in  the  stern  of  the 
rowboat,  Cranbrooke  beside  her,  their 
bow  above  water,  their  oars  negligently 
trailing.  Ethel's  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the 
glittering  panorama ;  but  Cranbrooke's 
eyes  were  riveted  on  her. 

With  an  oath,  Max  drove  his  paddle 
fiercely  into  the  sea.  The  canoe  sped 
forward  like  an  arrow.  Blind  with  anger, 
he  did  not  observe  that  he  was  directly  in 
the  track  of  a  little  steamer  laden  with 
new  arrivals,  turning  in  toward  the  wharf. 


On  A  new  day  dawned  before  the  doctors, 

French-  who  had  been  all  night  battling  for  Max- 

man's      well    Pollock's  life,  left   him  restored  to 

Bay         consciousness,  and    reasonably   secure   of 

carrying  no  lasting  ill  effect  from  the  blow 

on  his  head  received  by  collision  with  the 

steamer. 

Carried  under  with  his  canoe,  he  had 
arisen  to  full  view  in  the  glare  from  a 
"  set  piece  "  of  fireworks  on  the  shore, 
beside  the  boat  containing  Cranbrooke  and 
his  wife.  It  was  Cranbrooke,  not  Ethel, 
who  identified  the  white  face  coming  to 
the  surface  within  reach  of  his  hand,  then 
sinking  again  out  of  sight.  It  was  Cran- 
brooke, also,  who  sprang  to  Pollock's  res- 
cue, and,  floating  with  his  inert  body,  was 
dragged  with  him  aboard  the  launch. 

As  the  rosy  light  of  the  east  came  to 
play  upon  Pollock's  features,  he  opened 
his  eyes  for  the  first  time  with  a  look 
of  intelligence.  At  his  bedside,  Ethel  was 
kneeling,  her  whole  loving  soul  in  her 
gaze. 

"  Is  this  —  I  thought  it  was  heaven," 
he  said,  feeling  for  her  hand. 

"  It  is  heaven  for  me,  now  that  I  have 


you  back,  my  own  darling,"  she  answered,  On 
through  happy  tears.  French* 

"  Have  I  been  here  long  ?  "  man1! 

"  A  few  hours  since  the  accident.  The  Bay 
doctors  say  you  will  be  none  the  worse 
for  it.  And,  Max  dear,  only  think  !  This 
is  your  birthday  !  Your  thirtieth  birth- 
day !  Many,  many,  many  happy  returns  !  " 
and  she  punctuated  her  wish  with  warm 
kisses. 

At  that  juncture,  Cranbrooke  came  into 
the  room  and  stood  at  the  side  of  the  bed 
opposite  Ethel,  who  had  no  eyes  for  him, 
but  kept  on  gazing  at  her  recovered  treas- 
ure as  if  she  could  never  have  enough. 

Max,  though  aware  of  Stephen's  pres- 
ence, made  no  movement  of  recognition, 
till  Ethel  spoke  in  playful  chiding. 

u  Darling  !  Where  are  your  manners  ? 
Are  n't  you  going  to  speak  to  our  friend, 
and  thank  him  for  saving  you  —  saving 
you  for  me,  thank  God  !  " 

She  buried  her  face  in  the  bed-clothes, 
overcome  with  the  recollection  ;  but  even 
with  the  exquisite  tenderness  of  her  ac- 
cents thrilling  in  his  ear,  Max  remained 
obstinately  dumb  to  Stephen  Cranbrooke. 


On  "  Forgive    him  ;    he   is   not    himself !  " 

French-  pleaded    Ethel,  as    she    saw    Cranbrooke 
man's      about  to  go  dejectedly  out  of  the  room. 
Bay  "  Some    day  he  will    understand  me," 

answered  Stephen,  with  a  gallant  effort  at 
self-control.  Then,  withdrawing,  he  mur- 
mured to  himself:  "But  he  will  never 
know  that,  in  playing  with  his  edged  tools, 
it  is  I  who  have  got  the  death-blow." 


[202-] 


112521 


, 


